Empty Reflection
by origin-of-promise
Summary: A young woman's story of coming to terms with herself and the vampiric world she's become a part of. Please R&R. Rated for mention of suicide, romance, violence [summary changed] NOW COMPLETE!
1. Memory

There is a crack in the mirror that runs down the middle of my reflection, distorting my face, cutting it ruthlessly in half and making me out to be one of Picasso's paintings.

I like it better this way. There's something about seeing the two halves separately, one blurry, the other with an eye cut in half, that makes me able to stand myself. There was never much that I liked about myself, and m y beauty is one of the things I hate most. For someone that can't stand to have another person look at her, who just wishes she would die and leave her life behind, beauty is the worst possible gift.

My eyes, lacking makeup that I don't need, are red-rimmed; but it's from anger, not tears. That's the other curse: my unhappiness, my restlessness at being stuck in this body. It's like a cage--a five-foot-four-inch, walking, breathing cage, and the only way to escape is to die.

Believe me, I've thought a lot about doing that. Drowning, possibly, so that when they find my body, I'll be too bloated for them to enjoy my dead beauty.

I reach out a hand and follow the crack in the glass with the pad of one fingertip, tracing it past my face, all the way down to the sink. It's the attention I receive that I don't like. The boys that come after me just because I look pretty. That, and my inability to resist them. I always think, maybe this one will be different, he'll actually care about me...but they don't. They never do.

I'm not a virgin. At 21 years of age, and all those boys? They don't care who I am; they just want me for sex. And most of the time, they don't get it. But there's a few times...

I pull back from the mirror, turn away, and shut off my thoughts. No one's home but me--I live alone--so I run down the stairs, into the kitchen, to the cabinet with the stolen liquor. I pull out a bottle of bourbon, and it burns going down, fierce and warm, but I feel so much better now. I'm not drunk; all I needed was to block out those thoughts. I finger the bottle neck, take another sip, and look out the window. It's dark out; after midnight, and suddenly long-forgotten lyrics slide unbidden into my head.

"_Down on the inside, pretty on the outside..."_

I hate this song, but I'll always remember it. The memories, the thoughts that I'd been trying to hold back, come rushing at me and I close my eyes in surrender.

_That song, "Ridiculous," by Bowling For Soup. I hate them. I almost tell him that when we walk into his room, but he shuts me up with a kiss. This is where I lose my virginity. To this boy that I'll never see again, to this song with its somehow true chorus, if I pretend the singer's talking about me. I remember swirling colors, soft, rustling sheets, the bitter taste of alcohol. The scratch of beard stubble on my skin when he kisses me; the scent of his cologne. But most of all, I remember the last words he ever spoke to me. "You're already lost," he whispers. "I needed to have you before you're gone."_

I shake my head and curse. No matter what I do, that memory always comes back to haunt me when I least expect it.

I put the bourbon away, slamming the cabinet doors closed a little too hard in the process, and walk outside, to the curb at the end of my driveway. There, I sit down, breathing in the thick air, shivering from the humid, summer night. I tilt my head back and let the streetlight illuminate my pale skin as I stare hard into the inky black sky, wishing I could see the stars that are supposedly so beautiful. How I'd give to escape this world of lust for beauty, of people who don't care, of emptiness.

I feel empty. As I'm sitting here, alone in the middle of the night on the side of the street, I remember why I let some go so far as to persuade me give in to sex. I need to feel that comfort, that affection that comes from people who really care. And even then, when I give them what they want, I never feel it. I sigh into the dark air, thinking I'm alone.

"What are you doing out so late?" someone says. The voice is like jagged ice and warm velvet at the same time.

"Crap," I mumble.

I hate being pretty.

Then I turn to the voice, and I see him for the first time.

**A/N: Okay, so new story. Sort of iffy...the vampire part will come in the next chapter. More interesting stuff then, too, like her name and what she looks like, you know. Please review (the button's down there v v v) and tell me what you think...**

**Dusk **


	2. Intrigued

**A/N: Thanks to the people who reviewed! Here's chap two, sorry it's kind of short, too. I had to do what I could for the vamp's description, as I couldn't find it in AAR's books. Make sure you push the review button at the bottom to tell me what you think! **

**-Dusk**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything that is recognizably AAR's. **

He says his name is Jager, and even in the night's shadows, I can tell that he is beautiful, in the masculine sense of the word. he has dark, smooth skin: maybe caramel colored, although it's hard to see for sure; he won't step into the light. His straight hair just brushes his shoulders and is jet black. But his eyes are what I notice most: eyes aren't supposed to be disorienting and the pure color of a gemstone, but I swear his are. Such a deep emerald green they seem bottomless, and I'm afraid to look into them.

Yet I am intrigued, despite my fears and my subdued mood.

I stand up and lean against the streetlight pole, crossing my arms over my chest. (This is an uncomfortable habit I have that came from an attempt to hide my despised beauty.) "Hello," I say, my voice slightly guarded. Well, whose wouldn't be? It's almost one o'clock in the morning--I don't usually expect company at this hour.

He doesn't smile, doesn't offer a hand or nod. Just looks at me for a moment, as if assessing me, but the mood around him is light; genial. I relax because he doesn't frighten me anymore.

Except for his eyes. _Those_ frighten me.

"There's no need to look scared," he tells me now, his voice good-natured. He smiles and his teeth are stark white.

"I didn't think I did," I reply. My head is buzzing slightly from the bourbon and suddenly I'm exhausted. Maybe I'll actually be able to sleep now...

But this Jager wasn't simply passing by on a walk through the neighborhood. He walks over to me, and the light illuminates him to show his features to be even better looking than they were in the dark. "Will you walk with me, Emmie?" he asks, and I start at the fact that he knows my name.

"Relax," he continues. "I won't bite. Yet."

I can't tell if he's joking or not, but then he smiles again, and suddenly I find myself nodding in answer to his question. I like this stranger, despite his endless eyes and strange sense of humor.

He steps onto the sidewalk and I follow, falling in step beside him as we make our way down the length of the street I live on. I glance over at Jager and notice how comfortable he seems, how much at ease he is in his own body, and I am suddenly, irrationally jealous of him. I hate my body, how it stops anyone from seeing the person that's inside of this cage I occupy; yet Jager is completely satisfied with his.

"Now what makes you think that?" Jager questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his perfect mouth. "Who says no one sees the person that you are?"

I jump, but not only because he's been silent until now. "Did I...say that aloud?" I inquire carefully.

This time, Jager laughs openly. "No," he says, turning to me with amusement in his beautiful eyes. "You didn't."

My confusion shows on my face. "Then how--" I stop and shake my head. "Never mind."

I don't think I want to know how he somehow knew what I was thinking, but for some reason, the idea doesn't seem strange to me. Still, I want to change the subject, to step away from my uneasiness.

My mind drifts back to the first thing he said to me, and I repeat the question, this time directed at him: "What are you doing out so late?"

He chuckles as if the question came from the mouth of a naïve child. "Why do you walk around in the middle of the day?" he counters.

This is an odd answer, and it causes me to stop dead in my tracks.

"Emmie," Jager calls, turning around to look at me. "Come on."

I don't move; he stops smiling.

"Emmie." Why is his voice suddenly so hard? "Why aren't you walking?"

I shake my head. "You're scaring me," I whisper honestly. "I don't even know you."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures me, and his expression in the darkness is unreadable.

How do I know he's sincere? "Because I keep my word," he says in answer to my silent question, as if he can't help but respond to my thoughts.

He steps toward me and reaches out a hand to let my dark gold locks slide through his fingers. I try not to flinch and wonder instead if he is just like all those other boys, the ones who can't get past my pale, flawless skin; high cheekbones; my waist-length hair, and indigo eyes.

"It must be hard to be alone in this world," Jager murmurs, his eyes on mine. I don't want to look into them, but he's caught my gaze and I can't look away. "I'd be glad to help you, Emmie. To bring you out of your cage."

I don't know if he means giving me a way to die, or being the one that will actually care about me and make me happy again. Like when I was a small child.

Either way, I want him to stay.

"I'd like that," I whisper, and don't pull away when he takes my hand. We start walking again, slow, deliberate steps down the length of the sidewalk. I can hear my flip-flops smacking against my heels, but Jager's steps are silent. Not there.

"I know you would," he says, and smiles.


	3. Confusion

**A/N: I'm very happy right now 'cause I did well in day 3 of my swim meet, so I decided to post chapter 3! A couple things: one of my darling reviewers corrected me on Jager's description--mainly, his eyes. So I changed it in chap 2, and you might wanna check back there. ...Enough of my rambling. Here's the chap.**

**thanks to my few reviewers. you know you're awesome.**

**3Dusk**

**Disclaimer: It's AAR's (but Emmie's mine).**

The headache comes on slowly, so slowly that I don't even catch it until it's almost a full-blown migraine.

I groan and my fingers fly to my head, massaging my temples in an attempt to push the headache away. It doesn't work, of course. My appetite leaves me suddenly as a wave of nausea threatens to swamp me.

I'm hating the flourescent lights of this diner I came to before work to eat breakfast. They're harsh; they hum noisily and only add to the aching of my head.

Calling over the waitress, I order a mug of hot tea and search my purse for the bottle of Advil. After swallowing the small pills and convincing myself that the migraine can't get any worse, I pull out my cell phone to call my boss.

Irene, the head of the small publishing company I work for, answers the call with her usual impatient air. "Yes?" Her voice is clipped, sharp, and I can see her walking down the hallway in my mind's eye, a stack of papers under one arm, a coffee mug clutched in her hand. She would be holding her phone between shoulder and ear.

"Irene, it's Emmie," I begin. My head is pounding and I have to stop speaking, take a breath. "I just got this terrible migraine and I'm going to have to come in late, okay?" I know my voice sounds raspy; terrible. "I'll be there as soon as I don't feel like I'm going to puke if I move my head."

Irene laughs; one thing she does have is a sense of humor. "Take your time; it's slow today. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks," I say. "'Bye." She hangs up. Irene doesn't believe in wasting time.

I sit in the booth for a moment, my head in my hands, breathing slowly and deeply.

"Oh, hello, Emmie," someone says in a smooth voice. Then it changes, and I can sense the speaker's concern. "What's wrong?"

I look up and see Jager standing in front of my booth, looking irresistable in a black shirt that hugs his chest and shows taut muscles. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his dark jeans, and his hair is ruffled as if by the wind. I blink, confused. When did I start thinking of him as irresistable?

I take all of this in quickly, then attempt a smile and fail. "Headache," I explain. "Sit down." I motion to the seat across from me.

He falls gracefully into the seat, looking intently at me. His gaze is every bit as intense as I remember from the night before, and I shift uncomfortably, cross my arms over my chest again.

I'm curious as to why he's here. "What's up?" I ask, and take a sip of my tea. Relief surges through me at the realization that my headache is receding.

"I saw you walking here and thought I'd stop in to say hello," Jager replies. This is true; the diner is within walking distance from my house, so sometimes I walk here and take the bus to work.

I smile at his thoughtfulness. "I was on my way to work, but I'm going in late, now. Stupid headache."

He rewards me with a grin and a shiver of delight courses down my spine. "Do you want a ride home?"

There's something very different about Jager, I think a few minutes later as we pull out of the parking lot in his car. He's frightening but compelling at the same time...

I look over and suddenly take note of how much paler he looks than the night before. Yet I don't say anything; maybe I'm just imagining it.

The ride is quiet and ends too soon. But I don't get out of the car immediately.

"Do you want to do something tonight?" Jager inquires, and I'm suddenly uncomfortable again. "Maybe go to a bar or something?"

"I...don't know," I say slowly. And it's true when I say it. But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I _do_ want to go out with him tonight. I want to get to know him, to spend more than just a car ride with him. So I smile uncertainly. "Actually, yes, I do."

"Good," Jager answers. "I'll pick you up at eight."

He is silent for a moment, then moves closer, reaching out a hand to touch my hair again. It takes serious concentration not to shrink away from him. "Your hair is so beautiful," he comments softly, and bends his head towards mine. He's staring into my eyes--dazzling me with their color and clarity--and something keeps me from moving, from cringing.

He kisses me.

It's soft, unhurried, but deep. Shivers surge up and down my spine because I've never kissed anyone that made me feel like this before. I don't object when his lips leave mine and travel down to my throat, nor when he cups a hand around the back of my neck.

At first he is only kissing me, but then I feel a sharp sting on the side of my neck and panic--is he _biting_ me?

_Relax_, I hear, and his voice in my mind startles me so much that I try to pull away. But Jager wraps an arm around my waist and I can't move. _It won't hurt_, he murmurs.

He is right; it doesn't hurt, whatever he's doing. It starts with a tingling sensation at my neck, and I can feel his lips warm against my skin. His presence doesn't leave my mind, but I'm suddenly no longer aware of that. No longer aware of anything. I'm floating, all sensations of the world around me have disappeared, and I am only aware of my heart pounding away in my chest. Then that is gone, too, and I feel my body collapse against the car's leather seats, only Jager's arm around my waist holds me up.

Finally, he draws away from me, and I smell--or imagine?--the irony scent of blood, but my eyes have closed, and I remember nothing else...

**A/N: Make me even happier by pushing that button down there and reviewing!**

**;-D**


	4. Exhausted

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! I finally got my flash drive back, so now I can bring chaps from computer to computer. Now all you've gotta do is make me very happy by pushing the cute little button at the bottom...Hmm...oh, I had Jager speak to Emmie's mind when she's on the phone with him. Please let me know if that's not possible for vamps, and I'll change it. Anyway...enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: The world and Jager belong to AAR, as always.**

It wouldn't be a terrible way to die, I muse silently.

I'm laying sprawled across my bed, my heart beating frantically against my rib cage and my breath coming in shallow gasps.

I've figured out what happened, although my mind is fuzzy and it is hard to concentrate. Jager...there's a small cut on the side of my neck on my vein...a cut smeared with blood--_my_ blood...

Could it be true? Vampires are supposed to be fictional creatures. They only exist in fantasy books, in ghost stories. Vampires are the creatures that children impersonate for Halloween.

Jager _couldn't_ be vampire...

But I'm so lethargic now, as if I don't have enough blood in my veins, and that would be the only logical answer for the many strange things he's done. He read my _mind_, for crying out loud.

Would it really be so bad if he _was_ a vampire? I take a long, shuddering breath and let it out in a moan. I've fallen hard for him, and as far as I can see, he only wants me for my blood. I try to laugh at this, but I don't have the energy.

The ceiling is swimming before my eyes, and all I want is to rest.

My sleep is filled with nightmares of drowning.

-vVv-

_I'm falling , drowning with salt water pressing down on me and tearing through my lungs, when I force my eyes open and wake up in the real world._ My hand goes up to my hair as if checking to see if it's drenched and reeking of sea water.

It isn't; the nightmare fades.

Wondering what time it is--and worried that I haven't shown up for work--I glare at my bedside clock. The numbers don't make sense for a moment, but after I blink a few times they come into focus and I see it has only been two hours. I'm sore and still more than a little disoriented, but I drag myself out of bed anyways. Food will probably help, I reason.

Downstairs, I grope for the wall phone and dial Irene's number. Her answering machine picks up: "You've reached Irene's work cell. I'm too busy to answer your call now, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Irene?" My voice comes out almost incoherent and I have to clear my throat before continuing. "Irene, I'm not getting any better." This isn't a lie--I just don't have a migraine anymore. But shouldn't blood loss count? "I'm going to take the rest of the day as a sick day. Sorry." I cut off the connection.

It seems to take forever to get to the kitchen table, where I sit down and sigh. At least having my blood taken by a vampire doesn't leave me the energy to sulk about my beauty. I laugh softly at that thought.

Something scratches against my thigh and I dig into my jeans pocket curiously. I can feel a piece of paper rough against my fingers, but, strangely, I don't remember putting it there.

It is a phone number. And the words, "Call me when you wake up." _Jager_, I think, and smile.

My stomach flips over as I'm dialing the numbers. _He_ wants me to call him. Any misgivings I had earlier about his using me as a meal disappear when he picks up on the other end of the line and says, "Hello, Emmie."

I shiver, reminded of the time he knew my name without my telling him. "Hey."

"Look, about earlier--"

I cut him off. "I know what happened, Jager. I know what you are. And I don't care." I'm being brave, and I an tell, somehow, that he's smiling. _I knew you would be different_. His thoughts in my head are disconcerting, but I don't try to block them out.

Out loud, he says, "I lost control." His voice sounds pained, as if it is a hard thing to admit, losing control. "It won't happen again, Emmie."

I nod, then realize he can't see me. "Okay." I've forgiven him completely; no other guy I've known has ever made me feel like this, and it's nearly frightening. "Are we still going out tonight?"

"Yes, if you still want to--"

"Of course!" I'm too eager.

"Actually," I hear him shifting position, whereever he is. "Can I pick you up a little earlier? Say, five? We can go to dinner, too."

My heart does a somersault even though I'm firmly ordering it not to. I force my voice to stay calm and answer, "Sure. That's fine."

"Good, Emmie," he replies, his voice velvet soft. "See you then."

"Good-bye." Why do I whisper?

We hang up. I glance at the clock: it's noon. I eat a sandwich and down a mug of Tazo Awake tea, then walk up the stairs to my room, taking them two at a time.

I enter the bathroom and turn the bath faucet on hot, then undress to soak in the bath. It's not until I turn around while the water fills up and find my reflection staring back at me that I wonder if it's smart to have fallen in love with Jager. (Because I _know_ it is love.)

Jager's a vampire.

I'm an unhappy, possibly suicidal, human.

What could he possibly want with me?


	5. Confession

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since my last update! I've been pretty busy with my original work and packing for vacation (look at the note in my profile if you're confused.) Anyway, this is the longest chap yet, even though it's probably not that long lol. It's very important, and sorry for the cliffhanger...Please review!**

**Disclaimer: Only Emmie is mine. Everything else is AHAR's. Oh, and the song belongs to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.**

Chapter 5: Confession

"_Who you following?_

_Who you starting to move like?_

_Who you falling for?_

_Who you falling for? Who's lies?_

_Who you following? Who you falling for?_

_This sounds on your side."_

"The Sweets," the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

I dress in a jean skirt, black platform sandals, and a low-neck black tank top. I let my dark gold hair hang loose to my hips, the curls just shy of wild, and black mascara accents the black rims of my indigo irises. The only jewelry I'm wearing is a pair of diamond stud earrings and five wire-thin, silver bracelets that make a sound like a windchime when I move my arm.

I'm staring at my reflection again, and I purposefully move so my face is split again by the crack in the mirror. I'm dressing up my beauty for Jager, but why? There's nothing special about him, except for his being a vampire. It was only when I was in college, hooking up with boy after boy after boy, that I showed myself off.

My the face in the mirror blinks and its eyes reflect the light, making them seem empty. Forlorn.

I shake my head and will the thoughts away. Jager _is_ different. Maybe if I let myself trust him, I won't want to die anymore.

A funny thought: Isn't Jager dead?

-vVv-

He picks me up at exactly five o'clock. I slide into the car's dark interior; the leather seats of his black Lexus are cool against my skin and I look over at him shyly. _Shyly?_ "Hey," I say, and my voice is loud in the muffled silence of the car.

He puts the car into drive. "How are you?" We pull out of my driveway and turn onto the main road.

"Fine," I say, and hope he doesn't hear the tremor in my voice.

He glances over at me rather affectionately, says, "Don't lie to me anymore, Emmie. I don't like it," and turns his eyes back to the road in front of us. I look at him, confused. But he doesn't ask any more about how I am.

He asks me about my publishing job, and I tell him. But he doesn't give any information about himself in return, and a part of me deep inside is grateful. I'm not sure I want to know what vampires do during their immortal lives.

The ride is only about fifteen minutes, and then we pull into a parking space in front of a slightly fancy restaurant; already the guilt is swamping me, as I'm hoping desperately that it isn't expensive. I hate it when people pay for me, but I know Jager will insist. We walk into the building; it is chilly inside, and the lighting is dim, as if meant to be romantic. I glance to the side at Jager and his profile is serious. _Romantic my ass_, I think, and then Jager turns his head to make eye contact with me, his eyebrows raised. In his eyes there is laughter, and my face turns pink because I know he heard that thought.

A waitress, skinny-waisted but curvy in other areas, shows us to our table, smiling and laughing with my immortal companion. I watch on with an interested expression; I don't prefer to flirt, but it is always fun to watch other girls when they do.

After she leaves, the rest of the evening is a blur to me. I order a Coke and I think Jager does, too, but I can't be sure. We talk, but I can't remember what about. And I know for a fact that I order food and eat, but Jager doesn't.

He pays, like I knew he would, a couple hours later, and then we leave for the bar he'd mentioned.

It is dark out now, but only a few stars have risen and I can barely see the moon, a tiny silver sliver in an ocean of black sky. Suddenly I want to feel the wind on my face; the car is moving so fast, and speed is tempting to me.

"Jager?" I ask softly. He turns toward me briefly to let me know he's listening. "Is it all right if I roll down the window?"

"Sure," he replies, but his face is unreadable and I can't tell if he's happy with me.

The wind feels wonderful on my face, and it plays with my curls as it rushes over my skin, over the leather seating, to ruffle my vampire friend's dark hair. I grin into the breeze, and feel Jager's presence in my mind. He's smiling.

My first instinct is to shy away, get him _out_ of my head. But his presence is gentle, and I realize I don't mind it. _You're beautiful, did you know that?_ he says.

I make a point not to turn from the window and look back at him. _So are you_, I think pointedly as a reply, and he chuckles aloud.

_Something about you reminds me... _His voice drifts off. _I want you to stay with me. _The change of subject is abrupt, and confuses me, too.

"What do you mean?" I inquire, turning to stare at him.

His head turns, and for one excrutiatingly long second I'm trapped in his enchanting eyes. I almost panic, but then he speaks, and I know he's not inside my head anymore. "I don't feel much like going to a bar anymore, do you?"

I know I'm supposed to agree with him, so I shake my head. "No. I don't."

We turn onto my street instead, and in moments he has parked his car in front of my house and turned to look at me.

"Emmie," he begins slowly, "I am used to knowing everything about the people I meet. It isn't a question of whether or not they'll tell me; the information is in their minds, at easy access for my taking."

I shudder at this thought, but unclasp the seat belt buckle and turn my whole body towards him, listening with sharp attention.

"I've respected your privacy for the most part, only bothering to find out what is important to you, the things you keep on your mind all the time." _Well, thanks, _I think, but say nothing., and he continues. "There's something about you, Emmie, that I _know_ is important, that I should be able to find out, but I can't. I just know it is there."

He looks at me expectantly, as if he wants me to blurt out this thing he doesn't know so he can leave. I give the tiniest shake of my head; I still don't understand.

"You aren't happy," he adds, as if that will help me.

"Do you know about--" I'm thinking about the boys, about not feeling complete, about that stupid song...

He nods. "Yes, that I knew after the first time I met you," he replies offhandedly; it is nothing.

Suddenly it hits me: Jager doesn't know how I hate the way I look. He doesn't know that I'd rather be the Picasso painting the crack in my mirror makes me.

He doesn't know about me and my wish to die.

I wonder, thoughtfully, what he would do with that information.

Kill me? Make me bleed for him again? Or make me into one of his kind?

As clearly as if I was back in school and had read it in a textbook, I know I don't want to even consider this last option. Sure, I'd be dead, but wasn't the whole purpose of my wish to be able to leave my body?

I return my gaze to Jager, and I open mouth to confess my thoughts in one sentence: "I used to want to die...because I hate being pretty." There. It is out. Jager is silent for a few long moments, but I refuse to let myself fidget in the awkward silence.

"'Used to?'" he finally repeats, and I look him in the eye straight-on, and nod. Because now I realize that I don't _want_ that anymore. I want to live, even if it means enduring the stares every time I go out in public.

And suddenly I am afraid, because Jager knows my secret. My fingers are trembling, but I don't notice, because I'm still staring him in the eyes.

And somewhere in the depths of all that emerald, I see what he plans to do.

I see it, I know it, and isn't what I want at all.


	6. Intimacy

**A/N: Gues what? I'm baaaack! With 2 more chaps after this to come FAST if you review! lol it'll come anyway though.. This chap's a little sappy, but w/o it,what happens to Emmie won't really be justified, so...just deal with it lol. Thanks, please review, and I'll post when I get back from vacation!**

**Disclaimer: AHAR owns everything but Emmie. The song belongs to the Goo Goo Dolls.**

"_Extra pale_

_Oh, you're frail now_

_I shouldn't laugh about it_

_Tragedy sets you free_

_I should have known it from the start..."_

-"Extra Pale," the Goo Goo Dolls

Jager can tell that I see what he wants to do. He can tell, from the expression in my eyes, that I don't like it. He sees that I'm backing away, beginning to close myself off from him just as I've started to trust him. And that pains him.

He leans closer to me; our faces are inches apart. I'm no longer feeling brave or bold, and I painfully break eye contact with him and turn my head away to look at the leather seat beneath me. It is quiet for a moment, and then he takes my chin in nearly ice-cold fingers to turn my face to his.

The silence is oppressive. I'm struggling to stay calm, because that and the darkness are pressing down on my body, trying to crush me.

_I don't want this_, I think, because I don't want to die. I think it clearly, hoping that Jager will hear me and change his mind.

He stares at me with impassive eyes and says, "Not yet." And my relief at this sentence, that he isn't going to change me tonight, is so immense that I let out a soft breath, as if I had been holding it in all this time.

"Emmie," he says softly, his lips barely moving. "I've become...fond of you." His manner is so sure, so confident. "And when I make a decision that I want something, you should know that nothing will get in the way of my making sure it happens."

_Is this a threat?_ I wonder. I can feel my palms begin to sweat. I want out of the car, I want to leave Jager's presence and hide under my bedcovers like I did when I was little. When I was so sure make-believe creatures like Jager would hurt me.

I don't know if he will now. "I'm afraid of you," I whisper honestly.

"I know."

He closes the gap between our faces and presses his lips to mine. My body reacts, trying to jerk away from him--will he bite me like he did last time?--but he wraps his arms around my waist and won't let go. Then I realize how _good_ it feels to kiss him, and how I'm probably in love so soon, too. My body knows it, even if I don't, so I close my eyes and throw myself into his kiss.

His mouth is sweet and warm, and I know he could kiss me forever--but I'm running out of air. I yank my head away and he stares at me, surprised, while I suck in deep breaths, one after another. "Sorry," I murmur, and lean forward to let our lips meet again.

I can feel him smiling as he's kissing me, which is a strange sensation. But I feel so wonderful in his arms that I almost don't mind when he speaks in my mind.

_I want you._

I shiver at this confession and break off the kiss.

He smiles at me, strokes my hair affectionately, and pulls me so close that I am almost on his lap. I rest my head against his shoulder and savor how it feels not to be afraid anymore. Because I know that as soon as I leave, this feeling of safety will too, and I won't be able to face him again.

"You want me?" I ask, so softly that I don't know if he can hear me. With gentle fingers, he moves my head to his chest and put his chin on the top of my head.

"Tell me why you don't want me to change you," he demands, but his voice isn't angry. _Something is missing_, I think wildly. I'm terrified of this question, and I can feel my heartbeat speeding up to respond to my fear. "Tell me why you are afraid to be immortal."

I take a breath and let it out slowly. _Calm down_, I order myself. "I don't know," I mumble. I know he won't take this as an answer, but it gives me time to think of another one. Why am I afraid?

Suddenly I realize what is wrong. What is missing. Blood rushes in my ears and I know that I'm going to panic. "You don't have a heartbeat," I hear myself say.

"My body died years ago," Jager answers immediately, a smile in his voice. He is amused.

"Of course," I whisper. A part of me feels stupid. But the rest, the frightened part, is only trying to find a way to get out of this. "Jager." I sit up, scoot away from him, back to the passenger side of the car.

He is staring at me with those disconcerting emerald eyes. I shift uncomfortably. Without moving his gaze or blinking, he murmurs that he is listening.

"I don't want to die." I say it clearly, each word nearly its own sentence. "Not the way you want, anyway. Okay? _That's_ why I am afraid. My wish to die, up until a few minutes ago, was to _die_. Not be changed into a vampire, so that, technically, I would be dead, but still in this world. Is that so hard to understand?"

Jager's face hardens and he turns the key in the ignition. He still hasn't blinked.

"Get out, Emmie," he orders.

This is such an abrupt change in character that I jump at his tone of voice. But I don't move to get out of the car. "Jager--"

"Get out," he repeats. The light from the car's headlights glance off the emerald in his eyes and makes him vicious. He suddenly _looks_ like a vampire, like the ones in Hollywood horror movies. I find myself wishing desperately for the Jager that kissed me moments earlier, that was so sweet and _real_.

Slowly, I reach for the door handle. My shaking fingers fumble with it for a moment, but then the door is open and I tumble out of the car, turning around, dizzy with fear, to shut the door.

"Emmie." I look up into Jager's face. "Remember what I said."

Then he drives away, quickly but silently, and I'm left to stumble into my house, my heart beating so fast I'm afraid that will kill me before Jager can.


	7. Seduction

**A/N: Another chap up! Yay! There may be some random extra spaces in this one because the keyboard I'm using has a funky space bar...so forgive me. Haha. Review quickly and the next chap will be up!**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.**

**Chapter 7: Seduction**

When I get inside, I soak in a steaming, lavender-scented bath until the tips of my fingers are wrinkled and I am not shaking anymore. Then I pull on my favorite pajama pants--worn flannel that I've had since the beginning of college--and a t-shirt and crawl under the covers of my bed.

I feel like a mere child, one that is frightened and subdued because she'd found her closet door slowly creaking open after she'd already shut it firmly.

I thought I could be in love with Jager; I thought perhaps he wouldn't hurt me. Or frighten me...like all those other boys had.

_I was wrong_, I think as I lay under my quilt with my face buried in my pillow. I shut my eyes, really feeling like sobbing--but 21-year-olds don't do that.

_Remember what I said_.

His last words to me ring in my ears, and I shiver. No matter what I might think, I am not safe. Jager will come back, and get what he wants. I've only known him for two days, but already he's affected me, and not only by cruelly stealing my heart. For one, he's shown me the world in which vampires exist. I cringe to thin kwhat other creatures are also out there, even though, strangely, the concept of vampires doesn't scare me.

But Jager's also made me realize that I don't want to die. I'd rather stay in this world, absolutely alive...even if it means being beautiful.

I can't even imagine now being one of Jager's kind. Living in darkness, living on blood...it doesn't disgust me...it just isn't what I want. Isn't what I'd ever choose. I would choose real death over Jager's world in a hearbeat.

This thought calms me, and I let my eyes slide slowly shut.

-vVv-

I wake up early on Saturday morning, feeling suffocated in my room.

I stay in my flannel pants but switch the shirt for a tank top, and pull my long curls into a loose braid down my back. Then I quietly slip out the front door.

The gust of cool wind that rushes at me is relieving, and I breathe in the rain-scented air deeply, savoring it. I walk to the park at the end of my

street; the grass is dewy and soft under my bare feet. Just walking under the trees in the pre-dawn light is comforting, and I relax because I can concentrate on nature's beauty, not hiding my own. The park is deserted at this hour, and I like it this way; I make my way to a swing, brush it off, and sit down. There is a part of the ground beneath my feet that has worn away to dirt by years of children pushing against it, and my toes brush the dirt as I aimlessly swing back and forth...back and forth. I force myself to thin of nothing but the morning's air and how it will rain later. I love the rain.

Back and forth.

There is a sick feeling in my stomach that this will be the last time I sit here in this park.

Back and forth.

I push the feeling away, ignore it stubbornly. Something tells me that I shouldn't ignore it as I close my eyes and concentrate on the wind brushing my cheeks. "I thought I'd find you here."

My eyes snap open to meet with a pair of emerald ones. "Jager?" I look at him incredulously, more surprised that frightened. I almost expect him to jump up, yell, "Surprise!" and tell me that last night was all a joke.

He chuckles and moves behind me, where I follow him with my eyes, suspicious. But he only pushes my swing into motion. "Wondering why I am here?" he guesses.

"No." It isn't hard to figure out that he was looking for me. "You knew I'd be here. It's one of my favorite places, and isn't that something you could find out on your own?" My voice is sharper than I intend it to be, and Jager catches the chains of the swing easily in his hands, bringing it to an abrupt stop and spinning me around to face him.

"About last night," he whispers, his face close to mine. "I'm not one to say sorry, but I'm apologizing, okay? Emmie, I want you to understand: in my world--the vampiric world--I get what I want, because I am strong. I am old, and respected, and feared. And when I want to change a human, there is a point at which the human has no more choice in the matter. It happens. Not often, but it does. And I'm fond of you, like I said yesterday. Very fond. I want to make you one of my kind. So you can be with me."

I blink, speechless with some emotion I can't explain. Beyond fury at his arrogance, but flattered, too. And then my stomach betrays me with that flutter...

"However," he continues, and his arms are on either side of my shoulders so I couldn't move even if I wanted to, "to be honest, you confuse me. We've passed the moment in which I should have taken control. Yet you still refuse me. Still evade my wishes." _Wishes that will soon become orders_. I narrow my eyes angrily.

"Get out of my head," I order through clenched teeth, and to my surprise, feel him withdraw from my mind.

We are silent for a long moment. I swing my legs less than halfheartedly and bring my head up to meet his piercing gaze. "What is so good about me?" I want to know. "You only met me two days ago. What could you possibly have become fond of?"

"Your vulnerability and your failure to be frightened of the unknown," he replies bluntly. I'm taken aback by his honesty.

All I can think of to say is, "The unknown?"

"Death. The vampiric world. Yourself."

_Myself?_ I think. I am terrified of myself; that is why I'm not afraid to die. But my anger at Jager has drained away, and suddenly I remember how I feel about him. _This is so complicated_, I admit to myself. Yet even as I think this, I find myself leaning forward and pressing my lips against the vampire's. I kiss him, and my arms wrap around his muscled torso, and I don't draw away. His hands slide to my waist and I feel him smile into the kiss.

I'm so caught up in the fire that burns my skin each time we touch that I don't realize he's taken hold of my mind. Don't notice the pressure until he puts on me until I buckle under the mental weight and he has to catch me as I fall off the swing. And I all do is moan when his lips leave mine to travel down my cheek to my throat. I want him to kiss my lips again, to never frighten me again.

His breath on the skin of my neck is strangely warm.

"It won't hurt," he whispers. "Not at all."


	8. Struggle

Chapter 8: Struggle

**A/N: I'm glad everyone seems to be liking this fic! This chap's got a ton of action, so be happy. It made me want to scream after I read it over and realized what I'd written. Heh, I tend to do that to myself. And sorry for the chappie's shortness... Anyway, enjoy and please review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.**

It is the strangest sensation, having my blood taken. I feel no pain, although Jager has bitten into my throat with sharp fangs. No, the feeling is pleasant, and I don't want him to stop.

My head is spinning from loss of blood when he finally pulls away reluctantly; I feel like I am floating. _No worries_, I tell myself...

The pressure of his mind on mine lifts a little, probably because he thinks I am too weak to notice. I blink rapidly because suddenly, something feels _wrong_. "Jager," I say, my voice thick and slurred like when I'm drunk, "you said you wouldn't do that again." He still has me in his arms, and I turn up my face to smile at him, besotted. He kisses my nose, and the reek of fresh blood floods my nostrils.

I almost want to gag. "Your turn," he whispers, and his voice is so soothing, so calm, that I almost go along with him when he brings my face to his neck. There is a cut there, and blood--crimson, vampiric blood--drips slowly out of it. Jager seems oblivious to the fact that he is ruining his shirt.

I look at the blood and feel temptation burning in my gut. But I force myself to tear my gaze away, instead stare up at Jager and slap him across the face.

He stumbles back because I surprised him and lets go of me. I have to grab onto the chains of a swing to stop myself from falling down, but I am lucid enough to know what he was going to do to me. "How dare you!" I scream. "You damn murderer! Don't you understand that when _I_ want something, I get it? And do you know why? Not because I'm strong, but because I'm _stubborn_. So leave me alone!"

Jager makes as if to reach out at me, but the rush of satisfaction at hitting him gives me the courage to backhand him again as hard as I can. I let myself feel pride for a moment, but only a moment--

Something slams into my mind, and a pain so intense that I'm blinded for a moment overtakes my mind. The pressure is back and I feel myself collapsing, but Jager catches me.

"Not fair," I gasp and through a blurry vision, see him grin. But it's a furious smile.

"You, Emmie," he says with maddened patience, "have angered me."

"Good," I spit out, and then moan under both the pressure of his mind and his sudden decision to press his lips to my mouth. My stomach flips over and I want to _kill_ the part of me that has feelings for him. He takes my wrist and presses my fingertips to his throat. It is wet with blood again, and when I pull my hand away, I stare at my scarlet-stained skin. I bring it to my mouth, suddenly _needing_ to taste it...

No_. I don't _want_ this_, a part of me yells.

So I fight him.

Tooth and nail, they call it. I drag my bloodied hand across Jager's shirt to get rid of the stains and then try to shove him away.

I can hear him laughing.

_You'll be strong_, he tells me, and his amusement only fuels my anger.

"Get--out of my--_head_!" I shriek above his laughter.

_Why must you be so difficult_? he scolds gently, but his power on my mind is anything but gentle.

I finally feel myself breaking under his insane vampiric _strength_. My body sags in his arms, even though I'm ordering it to struggle.

The smell of blood is so tempting it scares me. I don't want to give in, but...

He paints my pursed lips ith his blood, and I try so hard to ignore it. I wonder if it looks like bright lipstick, or just the smeared blood it is. _Taste it_, Jager orders.

He kisses me and I my love for him leaves me no choice but to open my mouth to respond. I taste the blood on my tongue as he pulls away, and suddenly I can't resist anymore. I am greedy.

I lean forward and gulp from the gash at his throat like a starved child, the blood sweet and thick as it rolls over my tongue. It is better than any liquor I know of.

I drink and drink until he pushes me away. Still, I want more, but Jager sets me gently on the ground, on my back, and I moan for him to stop.

_Stop what?_ I shake my head; I don't know. _Go to sleep, little Emmie. You'll wake soon enough._

His voice fades away and I do sleep, a complete, black oblivion.

My heart ceases to beat.

Blood roars in my ears for the last time.

I stop breathing

and sleep.


	9. Desire

**A/N: I know it hasn't been TOO long, but it's been a while, so I'll apologize anyway: Sorry! I have excuses for not updating, I promise! School has started, and I have so much homework it's insane. And then last weekend, when I finally had time to update...the power went out. Anyway so chap 9 is finally here. Longest one yet! Enjoy, and (please) review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.**

I return to the conscious world slowly, at a human's pace. Everything is black around me, and for a moment I panic: am I dead? Really, _truly_ dead--in Hell? But then my eyes adjust and I recognize my bedroom; the windows have been covered with blackout curtains to keep out the light.

I sit up on my knees painfully and lick my dry lips, tasting a hint of blood. Because of this the memories of before my blackout--my death--come rushing back. I realize I have yet to take a breath, so I open my mouth and suck in air.

Bad choice. It is like swallowing jagged pieces of glass. Like sucking in water and expecting not to drown. I shut my mouth and double over in pain, and don't try to breathe again until the sensation fades away. The next time I am more careful, taking in a tentative, shallow breath. Why does it hurt so much to bring oxygen into my body?

I press my fingers to my wrist and, curiously, feel no pulse. Then it comes to me: I am dead. Or my body is, at least. I can force myself to breathe, out of human habit; I can will my heart to beat and send blood pumping through my veins--but why pretend? I have become the creature I refused to be with every fiber in my living being.

The taste of blood on my lips also reminds me of another thing: a desire in my gut, rumbling quietly until I bring attention to it, that I know makes my body call for blood. I am hungry.

I sniff the air gently, suddenly sensing I'm not alone in my house. The room smells musty, not like it ever used to--courtesy of the blackout curtains. They aren't mine, but somehow I am grateful for their protection anyway.

I don't need light to see my way around; I know my room by heart. So I will myself off the bed and cross the room to the door, where I immediately head to the bathroom. No matter how much I hate the _thing_ I've become, a part of me needs to see my face.

The first thing I notice is the _black_. Black eyes, dizzying and cursed in their beauty. I hate them immediately. But I move over so my face isn't split by the crack in the glass anymore.

If Jager can make his eyes green, I should be able to do the same. So I concentrate and will my eyes to change back to their former indigo. It works, and I sigh.

My whole figure is even more stunning with the vampiric blood to erase every invisible flaw. Muscles I never worked out before are curved, strong; my hair cascades down my back in curls, the braid undone; my cheekbones are sharp, but elegantly so. I am perfect, even more than before.

Yet I'm staring at myself, and the reflection isn't bright. Isn't clear. Somehow I know that the longer I am a vampire--forever, of course--the less I will be able to see my reflection. This doesn't sadden me in the least, and I even laugh, a laugh that is more of a low, purring chuckle.

I am restless and feel more empty than one could ever imagine. Empty of energy, of love, of life. I need someone else's life to sate my desire.

Decided, I glide down the stairs and meet the darkness on the first floor. I'm puzzled for a moment--how long was I unconscious for?

I am in the kitchen and for once don't even glance at my liquor stash. Nothing in that cabinet can solve my problem. I want blood.

And suddenly, the sense that I'm not alone returns. But it isn't the familiar feeling my human self would recognize as being watched; I'm _not_ being watched. It is more of a presence I can feel with a sense I never used as a human.

Someone is in my house.

This knowledge angers me, and I can feel my temper raising. Because when I search deeper, I realize who the intruder is.

"Jager!" I hiss, ready to pounce on him and rip his heart out. "I am hungry and very, very angry with you."

He steps out of the darkness, his emerald eyes glittering with something like amusement. "Don't bite my head off," he replies good-naturedly. "I don't taste good."

_Yes, you do_, I think so he can't hear me. I'm not sure if that thought refers to his lips or his blood, and I don't care.

I growl. He catches my wrists and pulls me to him; even though I am now one of his kind, he is still far stronger than me. His cold touch makes me tense, and I stand rigid in his arms.

"Relax," Jager breathes into my hair. "You need to feed. I'm going to teach you."

The offer tempts me. "I don't want your help," I snap. I'm staring at his neck, wondering what he would do if i bit it. _He wouldn't like it_, part of me decides sullenly.

"If you don't take my help, you'll die, little leech," he retorts, using the insulting name hunters have for our kind. He tightens his grip on me.

The bloodlust wracks my body and I groan: he is right. "We aren't finished with this," I promise him viciously and bare my fangs for good measure. I hate these fangs. I hate my lifeless body. I hate _him_.

But I succumb, and let him will me away.

My first thought when I open my eyes is that we are on a street in Boston. I don't know how this comes to me; I just _know_. "That...was weird." I shove Jager away from me, surprise myself by my sheer strength. My comment refers to the sensation of moving from one place to another in mere seconds.

As soon as I find myself out of Jager's arms, I stumble dizzily, blindly reaching out to grab onto something, _anything_ to keep me from _falling_...

Strong hands grab my arms and steady me; I moan. "I told you I need to help you feed," he says through gritted teeth.

I finally give in, mumbling, "Okay, okay," as I try to gather my senses.

I am being pulled forward before I realize it, and we enter a bar. _Plenty of people here_, Jager says in my mind. _Find someone, hold onto their mind, and drink. Don't be too obvious._

I nod. I am so starved for blood that I can't feel anger for him anymore.

"Go."

I make my way through the crowd and find a young man my age, scanning his mind carefully. He has just broken up with his longtime girlfriend, but hasn't been here long enough to get more than one beer in him. I smile, showing teeth. _Perfect_.

"Hello," I purr, sliding up next to him. At the same time I surround his mind with mine, pressing just enough to get what I want, but not enough to hurt him.

He is vulnerable, searching for comfort with hollow bluebell eyes. Easy prey. It only takes a few minutes of talking before he consents to going outside with me, and we stand in the darkness of an alley. I can feel Jager's eyes on my back.

The young man is in my arms, my lips softly grazing his. I move away, towards the throbbing vein in his neck. He doesn't even notice when my fangs pierce his skin, I am controlling him so much. But it doesn't matter. Nothing has ever tasted so good. Thick, sweet, human blood, not as satisfying as Jager's, but he is off-limits anyway.

I know I am in a city, close to crowds of people, but the thought never occurs to me to stop feeding before I kill the man.

By the time I realize this, he is already dead. I pull away, wipe my mouth on a sleeve, and sigh contentedly. I have sated the bloodlust.

I release my prey's mind and drop him carelessly to the ground. I feel strong. In control. "How was that?" I whisper, knowing Jager is near. He emerges from the shadows, smiling.

"I told you you'd be strong."

_Strong enough to kill you for doing this to me?_ I threaten silently.

He gives me a taste of power he holds, not so it hurts me, but only so I can sense his strength. _Not quite, fledgling_, he chuckles.

I am furious with him, but the intimacy of mind-to-mind conversation is comforting. _I hate you._

_I know,_ he replies. _But Emmie didn't._

I raise an eyebrow. "I _am _Emmie," I say aloud.

"Do you really believe that?" he asks of me.

I think about this. Emmie would never have killed anyone. Emmie was the kind of person to _be_ killed. I know for certain suddenly that Emmie _did_ die that morning. Died and won't ever come back. "...No," I say finally. "What happens now?"

"You are called Elyse," I tells me. I think about this.

"Elyse," I whisper, letting the word roll over my tongue. I lick my lips.

Though I still look like her, I am no longer Emmie. Dark gold hair, the illusion of indigo eyes, and a sorrow so deep it hurts. But I am not that mortal any longer.

I grin in the darkness. _I like it._


	10. Remembrance

**A/N: I know it's been a while. One word: school. But I've finally posted the chap that took me 3 days to write. Please review! More should be coming soon.**

My house...cannot be mine anymore. It seems lonelier with each passing day as the monster I've become. As if only Emmie is welcome here--and this makes sense, as it _is_ from Emmie's world. The stolen liquor, the publishing work. The computer; the cracked mirror. Everything reminds me of my life a week ago. I vaguely recall that Emmie's parents bought the house for her, as if she were a spoiled child and needed a new toy. They had been so eager to rid themselves of her. (And they did, in a way, get rid of me. But not in any way they could have imagined.)

And now? I am Elyse. Not Emmie.

As far as I'm concerned, Emmie is dead.

And so, I decide, I should leave her life behind, too. Just like my hatred of myself has been left in the wake of my hatred for Jager.

I haven't seen much of the vampire that changed me since the first night I fed; the first two days after that he stopped by often, but today is the third day without a trace of him. And I'm not relieved to be rid of him. I itch to wrap my hands around his throat and _squeeze_. To dig my nails into his flesh so he can feel my _pain_, my _fury_. And I absolutely cannot _stand_ the part of me that wants to love him.

To quench my frustration, I yank open the cabinet that holds my liquor and, seething, begin to open the bottles and pour them one by one down the sink drain. Drinking them no longer has any effect on me (I tried it a few days ago).

But I pause when I pull the bourbon into my hands. It reminds me immediately of the night I met Jager, and that damn song plays in my head..._"Down on the inside, pretty on the outside..."_

I look at the half-full (half-empty?) bottle and then impulsively down it with no other effect than its burning taste in my throat. The song flies out of my head as if I'd butchered it. _Like I'd love to do to Jager._

I push him out of my thoughts for now and climb the stairs to my room. There I take my favorite flannel pants and the lavender seeds that are such a part of who I was, who I _am_. But that is all I pack, besides my wallet and money.

On an impulsive thought, I call a realtor.

I tell them I must leave town as soon as possible; the woman promises to come view the house and will perhaps buy it from me so I can leave without waiting for another human to buy it first.

I smile wolfishly as I hang up the phone because even if the realtor won't want to buy the house, I can make them. I could be disgusted at the thought of this careless use of power, but I have the urgent desire to _leave_ this place, to get _out_ of Emmie's world.

On that thought track, being a monster isn't bothersome in the least.

-vVv-

I am sitting on the same swing in the park that Jager found me that unforgettable morning. It is late afternoon, and the balmy, nearly-humid air caresses my flawless skin. It will storm tonight.

My curly hair is down and wild; a lock blows across my vision and I can almost believe it is another night in Emmie's life. Can almost pretend I am human again.

But then my attention is drawn the a young man in the shadows of a tree; I have a strong suspicion that he is smoking marijuana, or something worse.

I take hold of his mind, which is easier than anything because he's high. "Hey!" I call, and he looks up, stumbles to his feet. "Come here." I can feel the bloodlust rising up inside me, gripping my senses to the point of insanity. I need to learn control, I tell myself firmly; so I shove the feeling away momentarily and grin at the boy, showing teeth. "Can you share a joint?" I ask with no intention whatsoever of smoking the stuff.

He reaches towards me, tripping over his own words. "I got m-more to share than a-a joint," he drawls, and I squeeze his mind with my power, clamp down hard, before I grab his shirtfront and him to me. He's so out of it that he doesn't even flinch when I move my mouth to his neck.

His blood is sweet, even though I know he's been poisoning his body with drugs. I open myself to his memories...and wish I hadn't.

Because I know this boy; I--Emmie--dated him. Slept with him. Got insanely drunk with him. Even smoked with him. That was who Emmie was in college. A whore. A junkie.

I nearly choke on the sweet liquid flowing over my tongue as I shove him away. I haven't take all of his blood, but he will die anyway; I can hear the frantic beating of his heart, the weak effort it makes to pump blood through his body. He cannot even think, and never will again.

It gives me a mad sort of pleasure to let him die. Another phantom of my past, gone forever.

I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my sweatshirt and walk away, back to my house. Let the people that find him think he died of a drug overdose.

The realtor comes soon after I return to the house. In a way beyond the woman's comprehension, she loves the house before I even let her inside. She looks around; I tell her the things she wants to know. Then she agrees to buy it; her company will sell it after I have left.

"The legal papers will take a few days to process," she explains as we agree on a price and I sign paper after paper.

"Of course," I reply absently, and shiver at the realization that I am controlling a human.

I am giddy with the power of, for once, having control over my life.

And two days later, I leave my town behind, Emmie's life behind, and begin to hunt down Jager.


	11. Confrontation

**A/N: Yeah, I had this writing spaz. So…two updates in one day—on the same fic! Review, tell me what you think. Suggestions, anything like that is welcome. And if anyone knows if Jager has another, more recent, fledgling besides Fala let me know. I'll change it. Thanks!**

**Chapter 11: Confrontation**

I stand in the park, hidden by trees, and take one last look at the place Emmie and Elyse both call their favorite. Then I close my eyes and will myself away with the thought of a vampiric town. I know I am in New Mayhem the moment I appear in the nightclub. It must be a vampiric instinct; I've never heard of this place with splintered mirrors for walls. I pick Jager out from the crowd immediately, and much to my dismay, my heart jumps at the sight of him.

_Why does it have to be so complicated?_ I demand of myself. _Why can't I just hate him, kill him and get it over with?_ _But what would that accomplish, anyway, besides vampires fearing me for my strength?_

I make my way through the human and vampire crowd to where the vampire I want is sitting. He looks so relaxed, friendly, but on guard at the same time; his legs are stretched out in front of him, a smile is on his face, but his gaze is sharp and doesn't miss a thing. I stand in front of him in a heartbeat (how ironic an expression).

"Elyse," Jager greets me as if my showing up here is no surprise. But the expression in his black eyes tells me he is curious, even slightly concerned.

"This your new fledging?" the vampire sitting with him asks casually, and my gaze snaps to his face. Black hair, black eyes, but his skin is pale and tattooed designs decorate his bare, muscled arms. His beauty leaves me momentarily breathless, like all vampires do.

Jager nods slightly. "Elyse, this is Aubrey," he says shortly.

Aubrey grins mockingly at me. "Pleasure," he offers.

I scowl. "You've been _telling_ everyone about me?" I growl at Jager. "About how you _murdered_ me? Like I'm some prize, and you can be proud of earning an enemy?"

Shock crosses Jager's beautiful face for a moment as he processes the first words out of my mouth. But that expression is quickly replaced by hard anger, and I realize I may have said too much in front of Aubrey.

"A fledging is a vampire's possession, his pride, little child," Aubrey explains, his voice laughing. "Jager can talk about you all he wants."

_What does he say about me?_ My scowl deepens. "I wasn't talking to you," I snap. I am furious, at both Jager and Aubrey.

Jager's hand is suddenly wrapped around my wrist; he pulls me down into his lap, despite my squirming. "It isn't wise to insult another vampire, little Emmie," he says, his voice low. I want to slap him when he calls me by my old name, but I can't because his fingers are holding my hands down. "You are no longer human prey, but I can't protect you. If Aubrey wants, he could kill you for your rudeness and I can't do anything about it."

I purse my lips and stick out my chin defiantly, but say nothing. He is probably right; although that would be the last thing I'd admit.

Aubrey is chuckling aloud beside us. "He's right, you know," he adds to Jager's comment. "But since you weren't aware of that, I'll let you go this time."

"Thanks," I mutter sarcastically, and Jager hears. His grip tightens on me.

"Stop it," he warns. How is it that he can make me feel like such a child?

"I need to talk to you," I tell him. "_Alone._"

"I'm busy. You can wait," he replies dismissively.

I narrow my eyes and growl softly. _I sold my house. I have nowhere to go_, I grumble silently, hoping that will make him listen.

_Go have a drink. Calm down. I'll get you when I'm finished_, he answers with a sly grin.

_That'll only give me more time to dream up ways to butcher you when we're alone_, I retort angrily. He laughs aloud.

"All right," he answers. "Aubrey, I have to attend to little Elyse now. We'll finish later?"

There is more laughter, laughter at _me_, in the other vampire's eyes. "Of course," he nods.

Without warning, Jager snakes an arm around my waist, pulls me to him, and we disappear.

-vVv-

I open my eyes to a bedroom, dark not only because it is nearly night, but because the walls and decorations are all black. "Where are we?" The words spill out of my mouth before I realize Jager is still holding onto me. I yank myself out of his grip, fury bubbling into my throat.

"My room here," he says as if it is obvious. "You wanted to be alone, didn't you?"

I blink. _Yes_. _But not your _bedroom. I don't add that it's not helping the lovesick half of me to be alone in this dark room with him.

Jager leans back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. He's smiling. "So what is so important that you had to come find me?"

"We weren't finished. You left." I frown, not trusting him and his apparent innocence.

"Finished what?"

I take my time answering, trying for the moment to keep the anger out of my voice. "I'm still…very unhappy with you for changing me. I'd rather kill myself right now than live like you and your kind."

"You seemed to be doing fine this past week," he points out, and I groan.

"Not the point." I take a step closer to him, flexing my fingers. Control, I remind myself. I can't afford to lash out at him before I finish talking. "You have no idea what you've done to me. Just because you're selfish, you want me. You're no different than any of the other damn boys I've met. The only thing you had over them is the curse of immortality. And sharing it with me."

He laughs softly. "That's all? Emmie—"

"Elyse," I interrupt.

"—No one's stopping you from falling on your own knife. No one's stopping you from using illusion to make yourself ugly, if that's what you want. But vampires, you must understand, value beauty. That is one of the major things we look for in a fledgling," he adds. "Don't just throw it away."

"Speaking of fledglings," I say through gritted teeth, "I am _not_ a prize you can go around telling people about. I am a human—or I was, at least, until you made me into this monster. And if I chose, I could be _strong_. I don't like it when people laugh at me. Watch what happens to them. And _you_."

"You don't have a chance against Aubrey," he says mildly, and catches my left wrist to pull me to him. I sink my other fist into his stomach and he lets go of me, eyes flashing.

"Do you want to know why you're such a big deal?" he demands, already recovered from my punch that would have seriously injured a human. He's angry now, but I don't regret it. "I haven't changed anyone in _centuries_, Elyse. My last fledgling before you was Fala. And trust me, you _don't_ want to meet her. Especially if she hears the death threats you're giving me." _Not that you'd be able to do anything, anyway_, he taunts silently.

"Shut up!" I scream. "Stop talking in my head! I hate you. Don't you realize that? You _murdered_ Emmie. I know she hated her life, but after she met you, she changed. She thought you were _worth_ it. Thought that maybe after meeting you she'd be able to do something with her life. Only--you—took—it—away. Bastard." I spit out the last word and rake my nails across his face.

He snaps. I suddenly find myself pinned against the wall, Jager's furious face inches away from mine. Something like fear stirs in my gut, but I refuse to acknowledge it. "Let go of me." The words are whispered, but he hears me without trouble. And doesn't move.

Pressure crushes my mind and I almost cry out, but I bite my lip and stare Jager in the eyes. "You can't hurt me," I gasp vehemently. I lash out with my own, untrained power, and see him visibly flinch; I don't know how to use just a little. The pressure recedes.

"Watch your back," he advises roughly. "I might decide you're too much trouble to keep around."

I force a laugh. "In that case, I'll be far away anyway. And when I come back, it's _you _that I won't keep around."

Jager's hard lips suddenly break into a smile, an expression so inappropriate at the moment. "Emmie," he whispers. "Elyse."

_Now what?_ I press, and shove away the urge to roll my eyes.

His face comes closer, until he brushes my lips with his, gently but so briefly. I find myself longing for his touch again. He pulls away, never breaking eye contact with me.

_Get out._


	12. Recklessness

**Chapter 12: Recklessness **

_"I've been looking in the mirror for so long_

_That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side._

_Oh the little pieces falling, shatter._

_Shards of me,_

_Too sharp to put back together._

_Too small to matter,_

_But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces..."_

Evanescence, "Breathe No More"

_What if I don't go?_ I ask Jager silently. His command still rings in my mind, yet I haven't moved. My sane half is screaming at me to leave before I get myself into something I don't want, but I can't budge; I'm frozen.

_I...can't deal with you right now, Elyse. Get out of my sight. _

Maybe it's because he wants me gone so badly that I disobey him. It feels good to contradict him, the monster that killed me. "No," I whisper. Our lips are inches apart in the darkness.

I hear his humorless laugh in my mind, but I ignore the reaction of throwing walls up to block him out. _Why are you so damn stubborn?_ he asks, but he doesn't want an answer.

Anger flares at his bluntness and I raise a hand to slap him. His eyes glance towards the movement, and before I can strike him, he catches my wrist. My eyes widen in fear for a moment; I am still frightened of the power he possesses, the power that seems to reach its peak when he's angry. But he doesn't hurt me. Quite the opposite, actually; he pulls my hand toward his face and caresses my palm with cool lips. I gasp; my skin tingles where he kissed it.

"Damn you," I growl, because I know I've finally given in.

"Too late."

He leans forward and presses his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily. I respond with a passion I didn't know I possessed. _Is this what happens when I try to hate you?_ I demand silently, but my tone is teasing. His lips move down my jaw, to my neck, and I tense. Too close, too soon to bring back Emmie's memories. I clear my throat and he pulls away.

We've ruined the moment.

"Sorry," I whisper. I don't want him to stop, despite the memories his kissing is pulling to the surface. Emmie's naivety, her ignorance, is not a part of me anymore. I refuse to think further than the fact that I want his lips back on my skin, want his arms around me, his touch...

I push myself off the wall I was leaning on and press into Jager, letting my body mold to his perfect one. I correct myself mentally; my body is perfectly flawless, too. _Are you sure?_ I don't know if he really asks this or if I imagine it, but with my face resting on his lifeless chest, I nod anyway. He kisses the top of my head and smiles. Moves his hands to engulf my small ones. Leads me through the darkness, even though I can see perfectly well, to his bed.

I am reckless in my kisses; I don't know if it is Jager's mind on mine or truly myself, but I throw myself into the moment as if I was the college whore again. Only with him, it is different. And I don't need liquor to get myself drunk; I'm already intoxicated by his smell, by the taste of his kisses, by the feel of his cold hands.

After it is over, we lay together, and our bodies are a perfect fit. His arm is wrapped around my waist and my nose is buried in his shoulder. I don't think either of us sleeps, but it doesn't matter.

I smile and slip into a world of dreams, a world where I don't belong.

-vVv-

When I wake, Jager is gone. Not a surprise, and I am immediately angry at him all over again.

_Where are you?_ I ask, searching for the familiar presence of his mind. I don't need an answer; he is inside the nightclub. I force a smile on my face and will myself into the bar. "Hello, Jager," I greet him smoothly, as if I'm still angry with him. As if nothing happened between us.

But he has a different plan. I barely get the chance to see that he is chatting with Aubrey again before he pulls me to him and presses his lips to mine.

"A little obvious, isn't it?" I ask dryly when he lets me go.

He shrugs. "I found you a house," he tells me.

I raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"It's just outside New Mayhem, not too pricy. I already bought it." The eyebrow goes up further. "If you don't want it, that's fine. Another house won't hurt me," he finishes, as if he doesn't even see my appalled expression.

Aubrey is laughing. I've never seen someone laugh so humorlessly, so much, never mind that it is mocking laughter. And at me, nonetheless.

Because I don't feel like picking a fight with Jager right now, I turn to Aubrey with a smirk. "I'm glad you find me so amusing," I spit out, and then disappear before he can reply.

I open my eyes when I am in my old house, in front of the cracked mirror. Back to where all of this began. I reach out quickly with my mind and find the information I am looking for: no one is in the house. Then I look at my reflection and pretend not to notice how it isn't as vivid as when I was human.

The crack grates on my nerves now instead of comforting me. But still, I stand so the glass cuts my face in half; it is habit.

Jager irritates me to no end. How can I love him but completely despise him at once? Isn't it strange for two vampires to love each other? _Can_ we even fall in love?

I brush that last thought aside; it is a ridiculous question. But still, I'm wondering as I'm fuming with anger. My thoughts turn to blaming myself. If Emmie hadn't been so _stupid_, if her mind hadn't been so deeply steeped in self-pity, then she wouldn't have bothered with Jager in the first place. She would still be _alive_, even though she hated herself. She would actually _die_, someday, damn it! I growl at the reflection in front of me. It's an inhumane sound, inhumane like the way I'm feeling.

"Why do I struggle against who I am, no matter what?" I demand aloud. "Can't I just accept this? It won't change. I don't even know if I _want_ it to change. I—"

I break off ranting and exhale forcefully. Almost without thinking, I reach out with my power, with my anger, and shatter the glass of the mirror. It explodes into a million pieces and the shards rain down on me, but I can't tell if they cut me or not. It doesn't matter; I'll heal quickly anyway.

I brush the glass out of my hair and smile absently into the few bits of the mirror left in its place.

"They would have needed to replace it anyway."

**A/N: Hmm not so sure about this. Tell me what you think! I'm planning on this chapter being the last you hear of Elyse hating being a vamp, so no more self pity! Yay! We'll think of something awesome to happen instead…**

**Please review and thanks to all!**

**Dusk**


	13. Acceptance

**A/N: So sorry for the wait! I had writer's block for too long. This chapter takes place a week from the last, and it's a transition chapter…probably not one of my best, so sorry about that, too. Haha. Review to tell me what you think! Thanks :) (And the quote below is a poem this time, not a song.)**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.**

"Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,

Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,

Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,

Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

"If anyone asks, say it was forgotten

Long and long ago,

As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall

In a long forgotten snow."

-"Let It Be Forgotten," Sara Teasdale

I am too tired of fighting it. Of fighting what I've become. Each time I try to stop feeding, try to anger another vampire so extremely that they want to kill me, I always manage to evade death.

I am living in the house Jager bought me.

But he's never around. Not in New Mayhem, not anywhere I go. Not like I'm looking for him, or anything. But it is as if what we had...wasn't anything at all. It's like it never happened. And that angers me. I force away the thought that I've become a monster for nothing--force it away before I can even think it.

Today I will myself to a bus stop near my parents' house, carrying a bag stuffed with nondescript clothes to act like I'm still going on with my life. I've even packed a few publishing things I'd had left before I quit my job a week ago; a grammar book, a copy of someone's manuscript, a thesaurus. I call the house from a pay phone while I wait for the bus. As the phone rings in my ear, I'm scanning the small crowd in front of me. But I'm not thirsty; I fed this morning on someone walking his dog by my new home. It sickens me only slightly how I didn't feel remorse for killing the boy; I was only sad for the dog.

"Hello?" The voice of my mother snaps me back to reality like a punch to the gut. But this has to be done.

"Hi, Mom," I whisper. "It's me. Emmie." I cringe at the name.

"Emmie? What's wrong?" Leave it to her to expect something to be wrong the moment I call her.

"Nothing," I soothe. "I'm in town for my job. Can I come over? I won't be staying long, but maybe I could spend the night?" I ask, and the lies slip out easily.

She's silent for a moment; all I can hear is her breathing on the other end. "You won't bring any of your...friends over, will you?" she asks finally.

She means the boys I used to have over nearly every night towards the end of high school. "Of course not," I snap, sharper than I'd intended. I soften my voice. "You know me better than that, Mom. You know I've changed."

I can almost see her relaxing on the other end of the line. "Sure, honey. You're always welcome." It's amazing that I'm still the better liar.

"Thanks. I'll be over in less than an hour."

I briefly wonder if I should walk or take the bus, but I decide on the bus--it's more human. To me, at least. And I need to be around people. Need to remind myself how to act around my parents.

The sun has set by the time the bus arrives, and I pick a seat towards the back, finding myself staring out the window. But because of the lights in the bus, my reflection in the glass obscures my view. I think back to when I shattered the mirror in my bathroom, in Emma's bathroom, and smile to myself. Destroying that piece of my past has brought me to terms with the creature I am. I no longer doubt myself; I am a vampire, and I cannot change that. I am not even furious with Jager anymore for changing me.

Is this change sudden? Perhaps. Maybe I should still hate the monster I am, should sulk and lash out at everyone that speaks to me. I _hate_ being perfect. But that resentment has also drained out of me slightly. I am Elyse; I have changed from the self-pitying, ignorant human I once was. And although I would have died—literally—before becoming what I am now, I am learning to stop fighting it, though I am far from accepting it.

I spend the night with my parents, and don't try too hard to show them I've changed. If they were never to see me again—which they probably won't—they wouldn't care less; they already know in their minds who Emmie is. They have decided on who their daughter is based on her old problems.

So I sit back, speaking with them but not really paying attention, instead soaking up every detail of them I'll be able to remember—my mother's golden hair and gray eyes, my father's impressive strength and indigo gaze. Like mine. I memorize his smile, her laugh, their smells, and say my silent good-byes.

In the morning, because I can't afford to endanger them by giving in to the bloodlust, I am gone early.

As I walk out of the house, I breathe a sigh of relief. I have this sense of acceptance, of peace. Perhaps it is the fact that I've tied loose ends together, loose ends that, in Emmie's life, would probably never have been afforded attention. But now, with a small smile, I can tuck away my past somewhere safe, where I don't have to think about it. And then I will myself away to go feed.

**A/N: …Next chapter should be up soon!**


	14. Chaos

**A/N: I think this one's kinda long…very emotional, so if you like that, good, if you don't…oh well. The lyrics are kinda supposed to match what's going on. Please tell me what you think!**

_"You get back on the latest flight to paradise_

_I found out, from a note taped to the door_

_I think I saw your airplane in the sky tonight_

_Through the window, lying on the kitchen floor."_

_-Stars, "Heart"_

I'm sitting on the thick branch of a tree in the woods near New Mayhem when Jager finds me. He smiles up at me from his position on the ground, by the roots of the tree. "Are you coming down anytime soon?" he wants to know.

I shrug. "I've only been up here a few hours." Which is true; after I left my parents' home, I went to New Jersey to feed and then came here. His eyes laugh and I realize what a relief it is not to hate him anymore. Because I don't; I am truly Elyse now, and have no reason for resentment. "You can come up if you want," I add.

He takes me up on the offer; less than a second after the words are out of my mouth, he is beside me, looking into my eyes as if he'll see something important there. "What?" I demand.

But he only shakes his head, and, after perhaps studying me for my reaction, he leans into me and kisses me. I pull away after a few moments. Not because I'm uncomfortable, but I'm feeling as if this is too much, suddenly.

"I saw my parents yesterday," I tell him casually, as if it's not a big deal. He shifts uncomfortably, a very odd action for him. Jager is never uncomfortable. "I'm not seeing them again," I continue. "That was good-bye."

"Won't they wonder where you've gone?" he queries after a few moments of silence. I wonder if he's guilty for taking me from my family. But Jager is never guilty, either.

I shake my head in answer. They never cared. But I keep that thought to myself.

He kisses my lips briefly. "Little Emmie, are you angry with me?" His voice is strangled, worried.

I stare at him, my temper bubbling up into my throat. "I am now." I want to get away from him suddenly, want his gaze to stop catching mine. I jump out of the tree, landing catlike on my feet. But Jager is close behind me. "What did I do?" His eyes have sparks of anger in them, making them glimmer like the gems they appear to be.

"Stop calling me _Emmie_." My teeth are gritted together and it is hard to speak clearly.

He reaches forward to finger my hair, but I jerk away. It is my turn to be moody, for once. "Elyse," he corrects himself, and I pause, "you can't erase your entire past in one week. Especially not from me. It doesn't work that way."

My eyes cloud over, becoming more grey than indigo now. "I am _not_ Emmie. You know that. I'm _not _erasing my past, and I _am _different now. Stop reminding me of the person I hate most!" I wonder if I sound like a child, protesting against her guardian because she doesn't want to go to bed.

He takes a step back as if in surrender, but I know he's mad. When he opens his mouth to speak, I cut him off--I have nothing to lose, anyway. "So should I ask around about _your_ past, bring it up every once in a while like you're doing to me?"

He replies by viciously lashing out at me with his power. I stumble to my knees; I've made him that mad. One thing a vampire doesn't like is to be reminded of their weak, human past. Especially one as old and powerful as Jager.

But before he can do anything else to me, I smile into his eyes and twist the remains of his power that is still mixed in mine. His gasp of pain only makes my grin widen. "Stop provoking me," I warn. "I'm strong, too. And I have no fear of you, Jager."

"Oh, this is entertaining." The sugary voice grates against my ears, and I growl, standing up but never letting my eyes leave Jager.

Fala saunters between us as if genuinely interested in our fight. But she moves towards Jager, kisses his cheek as she passes him and begins to circle us. To my surprise, he catches her wrist and pulls her to him as if it's a habit, reflex. He kisses her full on the lips.

My eyes widen with a twist of my gut. Not waiting to see anymore, I hiss silently, _I hate you_, and then disappear.

-vVv-

Things are falling too quickly. I'm pacing in the room of my new house, silently fuming but unwilling to go find Jager and make him explain. Why do I feel so possessive even though I can never seem to stop fighting with him? Fala annoys me to no end; how she interrupted our argument, her confident aura, her love for pain—others' pain. I spin around and slam my fist into the mirror over my dresser, watching the glass shatter, watching my skin's lacerations heal themselves in seconds. I take a deep breath and decide to go back to the night club in New Mayhem. Maybe, if I keep hold of my temper…things won't collapse again.

I love Jager. I know this. So maybe I should act like it.

When I get there, it is early morning and the club is nearly empty. No humans, only the blood-bonded bartender and a few of my kind—Moira, Aubrey, Jager, Fala, and myself. There are a couple weaker vampires, but I don't pay much attention to them. Jager is leaning against the counter, drinking from an unlabeled bottle. I grimace, a strong suspicion rising in my throat that whatever he is gulping down would kill a human. I walk up to him, trying my best to act humane, though the thought brings a smile to my lips.

"Jager—"

He parts from the bottle to stare at me, his lips sealed shut. _I don't want to talk to you._

"Jager, listen to me…I'm sorry, okay? I got angry…"

_Go away._

But I don't back away; in fact, I take a step closer to him so our faces are only a handful of inches apart; this moment reminds me of that night in his room, the night I came to him… "_Listen to me_," I breathe, absently rubbing the hand that, moments before, had met with glass.

That's when I see the hurt in his eyes. And I don't understand. He's the one that brought up my old name, that _kissed_ Fala in front of me—

_Why? _he wonders. His eyes are ice and an emerald ocean at the same time, one moment angry, the next incredibly vulnerable.

_Because I love you_, I say desperately. Despite my promises to be logical, to try to understand him, I find myself telling him what I hadn't planned on saying now.

"Damn it, Elyse, make up your mind!" he shouts out loud suddenly. "What am I supposed to think? One moment you're screaming at me for reminding you of your days as Emmie, and the next you're saying you _love_ me?" My chest caves in on itself at his reaction. He tosses the bottle he'd been holding behind him and it shatters somewhere behind the bar."Make up your mind," he repeats, his voice much softer now. "Sometimes I wish that I'd killed you myself that first time I tasted your blood, do you know that? I can't predict you, I can't understand you. Unless you stop this, I can't do this anymore, Elyse."

I bite my lip, forcing the anger down. He may be furious, but I _won't_ be this time. And maybe he'll win. Maybe he doesn't want this anymore.

It doesn't matter.

I clutch at my chest, at the burning there, and he notices even though I didn't mean for him to. _Elyse? What's wrong?_ He is confused because vampires are nearly immortal; it's not as if I'm having a heart attack.

I want to scream for him to call me Emmie. "I can't do this anymore," I echo his words, shaking my head and backing away from him when he tries to embrace me. In my distress I substitute clumsiness for a vampire's natural gracefulness, tripping against a chair. I'm grateful that at least there are no humans here, no one that can see my weakness for what it really is. I stumble and my back slams into a table, the sharp edge biting into my skin. Jager's eyes are filled with something like anger, but I know him better than that. "Leave me alone. That's my decision, okay? I don't know what I want. But…" I decide not to tell him how I hate it when he calls me Emmie, but when he doesn't, I'm practically screaming for him to stop calling me Elyse. I shake my head again, looking him straight in the eye. "Just stop." The finality in my tone, or maybe the expression on my face, must bring Jager to his senses. He nods and turns away from me, letting me go. _'Bye_, I say, my voice a breath in his mind.

Hours later I am back in the club, hiding my aura and my face in the red lights, watching Jager from my corner. It is a shock to see him with Fala. Already. But I'm not angry. Only when I see him kiss her, speak to her gentler than he's ever done to me, do I feel my heart wrench. That's when I feel my walls crushing me. When I know for sure that I really did love him.

And that's when I see Moira looking at them, too. Standing along the wall, her face twisted into an expression of utter horror, but disappointment and jealousy are there in her face, too.

I turn away from the scene, my dead heart aching fiercely, as if it were starting to beat again. Only it's worse than that. I close my eyes, needing to leave, so I will myself far away, trying so hard to forget Jager, to forget Moira's face, to forget everything.

I end up in England. And I stay there for one hundred years.


	15. Proposition

**A/N: The chapter takes place one hundred years _after_ Elyse comes back from England, so she's roughly two hundred years old. But don't worry--no one missed much. Remember that two hundred years isn't that long for vampires. And we're assuming here that life--technology and all that good stuff--is the same two hundred years into the future. Again, if someone knows that Moira's eyes aren't black, let me know so I can fix it.**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.**

_"One day, I am going to_

_grow wings_

_A chemical reaction_

_Hysterical and useless_

_Hysterical and_

_Let down and hanging around_

_Crushed like a bug in the ground."_

_-Radiohead, "Let Down"_

Like every other vampire, Moira is beautiful. Flawless, skin, deep black eyes, a sculpted body. But unlike the rest of the creatures in this room with the mirrored walls, she meets my gaze from across the room and holds it. I'm sitting at a table in a far corner, my feet propped up on the table's surface, when she walks in. Her gaze is steady and not unlike Jager's, but I'm surprised not to see hate in her eyes.

_Did you want to talk?_ I ask her silently, and she nods almost imperceptibly.

I blink and suddenly she is beside me. "Is Jager here?" she demands. I shake my head, studying her, wondering what she wants.

"Good." She pauses. "I need you to do me a favor."

I raise an eyebrow at her and shift my feet to a more comfortable position. Waiting.

Moira exhales in exasperation and perches on my table with a shake of her head. "Can you make Jager love you again?"

The question throws me off guard; it has been nearly two hundred years since I have been alone with Jager. So of course I automatically say, "No."

My mind tingles slightly with the force of Moira's power, just contained; a warning. Moira isn't one to flaunt her power, her strength, so I know she is serious. I push back at her slightly, reminding her that I am strong, too. But she just smiles devilishly and leans closer so mere inches are between our faces. Her smile disappears. "Why not?" she hisses.

I look her in the eyes steadily for a few moments, not saying a word. I hadn't even realized that I had leaned forward, towards her, to meet her gaze, but when I do, I sit back coolly as if completely at ease. As if I'm not being silently threatened by a vampire hundreds of years older than my two centuries. "Why don't we go somewhere else to talk about this?"

Moira nods shortly. "Where?"

"My house." This statement isn't confusing, unlike if another vampire had voiced it; I don't have multiple houses, as I don't belong to a circuit that throws bashes. I only have the one house that Jager bought me years ago. Which I have since paid him back for.

And then, of course, is the house in England. But no one knows about that.

We leave the nightclub and are in the sitting room of my house just outside New Mayhem seconds later. "You know I've barely spoken to Jager in two hundred years," I say as if we hadn't interrupted the conversation by moving places.

"Does that really make a difference? You know that time means little to our kind. And he loved you so much! Still loves you." She seems so certain, but the sad thing is that I know she is wrong.

I shake my head, inching away from Moira. I am angry at her for bringing back memories I had locked up forever, but hurt, too, that she wants to change what is, what will never change. "Jager never loved me, Moira." I say it evenly, masking the pain it causes me to talk about him. "It was only a game to him. A game that cost me my human life."

Moira's growling now, her beautiful face twisted into something almost ugly. "How can you be so _stupid_ after all this time?" she demands. "Some of us change humans out of spite, or because we're simply bored, but Jager isn't one of them. And he definitely did not hate you. So what else _is_ there but love, Elyse?"

She has a point, but I won't admit to realizing that. "Why do you even care?" My voice is softer now despite myself; less defensive.

I see something in Moira's eyes, then; not sadness, and although her face is still angry, it's not that, either. More like rejection, loss, or longing, and I'm surprised to see these emotions, of all things. "I want Fala to love _me_," Moira whispers, and her confession makes her eyes blacker than ever. I am thrown off by her sincerity, her intensity; it is unusual for a vampire to express her weakness to another.

I say nothing in reply, instead digesting this information slowly. I had heard stories of Moira and Fala being lovers, but I had never seriously paid mind to them; for most of my vampiric existence, Fala and Jager have been more or less together. But when I look at Moira again, I am reminded of that night two hundred years ago. The night I closed myself off from Jager.

_Standing along the wall, her face twisted into an expression of utter horror and loss, was Moira, her glowing black eyes burning holes into Jager and Fala. I wondered briefly if the stories of Moira and Fala were true, but my heart ached so much that I couldn't concentrate. I closed my eyes, turning away, and brought myself to England. _

_But Moira's expression stayed burned into my eyelids even after I'd left..._

"Elyse?" I shake myself out of the memory and absently rub my chest with my left hand, recalling the burning there. Moira is staring at me, waiting for me to comment on her confession. She looks almost desperate, as if pleading for me to keep her desire a secret. But Moira has always played her emotions well.

"I can't help you," I say, and make to turn away.

But she grabs my arm in a grip so strong that it would have cut off the circulation in a human's arm. "Stop saying that!" she snarls, her eyes bright with anger. Too bright. "You're the only one I can think of that could make Jager change his mind. I _need_ Fala."

My mind spins for a moment. Less than gently, I pry her fingers off of my arm and stare her in the eyes. "I am not talking to Jager. I resolved myself to stop that years ago."

"This is so damn _stupid!_" she cries, her power rippling softly over my body. "You love him! That's why you left for one hundred years, why you went from a naïve, sentimental vampire to a heartless one."

My throat burns with fury. "Stop. It," I order her. When I force out the next words, I make myself believe that they are true. "I may have loved Jager once, but not anymore. I can't help you, Moira. Go away."

She shakes her head, her eyes nearly liquid and burning. She is like a child that wants to gain back the attention of her mother, and won't give up. "Don't you understand how much alike we are?" she asks.

The question shakes me; I'm not expecting it. "What are you talking about?" I snap.

"I was changed because of love. I may have been scheduled to die anyway, but she loved me all the same. Just like you and Jager. And now we're both without the lovers we gave our lives up for--"

"I didn't give my life for him!" I yell. "He _took_ it, don't you get it? I fought him and lost. And loved him. But not anymore." By the time I'm finished speaking, my voice is low. I walk out of the house and into the woods behind the building, knowing Moira is right behind me. The silence of the forest calms me some; I love watching the moonlight play on the green leaves, the moss, the tree trunks. After taking a deep breath, I turn back to my companion. "He won't take me back," I try, my voice sounding strangled. "I hurt him too much."

Moira just looks at me. The moon's rays fill her eyes with light, making them sparkle. In that moment, I can see why Fala wanted to save her. "Do you know how many times I have betrayed Fala?" she questions. I shake my head even though it's a rhetorical question. "And she still took me back. It's always been hard, seeing as she fell in love with Jager first, years before I was even born. She'd go back to him every once in a while, and I'd find someone else. But never for this long. I don't have the heart to change any of the others I find to shock Fala; I love her too much. If you remind Jager that you are still here, if you stop _hiding _yourself from him, it won't matter to him that you hurt him. And Fala will come back to me."

This is the first and probably only time I have heard and ever will hear so much vulnerable information come from a vampire's mouth. Moira must be desperate; it doesn't seem to matter to her that I could use all of what she's told me against her. But that thought train abruptly ceases and I'm distracted by something else; for a sudden moment I feel Jager's lips against mine. It's been so long...

"Give me some time," I say finally, not knowing what possesses me to agree with her. "I'll need to do it slowly."

"Not too long," she snaps, but the relief in her face is evident. After a moment of studying me, she whispers, "You _do_ miss him, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."

Maybe I'm being as stupid as her, appearing vulnerable to one of my kind. But I nod, finally spent of trying to deny it. "I miss Fala, too," Moira offers in the closest form of comfort I'll ever get from a vampire. "It'll be so much better when we're back together again, don't you think?"

I can only nod again. Moira smiles slightly. "I'll find you in a few days," she promises. "Stop hiding yourself. It's not helping." She means my masking my aura so Jager can't find me. So he doesn't know I'm here.

I lean back against the trunk of one tree, feeling the bloodlust creep up into my throat. It's after midnight, and I still need to feed. "I'll do it," I say, knowing that I really will try.

She nods and leans towards me. Kisses me softly on the cheek. "Thank you."

I'm not used to compassion anymore, only deceiving vampires and stupid humans. Moira's vulnerability to emotion makes me smile. I catch her gaze one more time, and then bring myself away to feed, leaving her alone in the forest.

**A/N: Please review! Thanks to everyone that has been. You guys have helped me to continue this story. You're all awesome:) **


	16. Agony

**A/N: This is a flashback of her time in England for all of you that wanted to know what she was up to for 100 years. It's immediately after she speaks to Moira that she remembers this because of being called heartless. The next chapter will pick up from the end of chap 15. Enjoy and please review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie and Sutton is AHAR's. The song is "All That I'm Living For" by Evanescence.**

_Fifty years before; Durham, England:_

Now I know how Jager felt 50 years ago. How he fell so deeply in love with me that he changed me against my will. And also how that didn't get him what he wanted. I push away the thoughts of my past and watch Sutton exit the pub, looking around. I know he is waiting for me, but I can't seem to move; I'm mesmerized by his mortal beauty. His black hair that in the light has highlights of dark chocolate, his eyes that are so amber they almost look orange. I'm grateful that my fondness for him distracts me from my past, but at the same time I'm mentally kicking myself. I can't stay here, in Durham, forever.

And I could never change Sutton. He is too in love with life.

"Sutton?" I call, stepping out of the shadow of the building I'd been leaning on. The dirty streetlamp doesn't shed much light, so although I can see perfectly, Sutton squints his eyes. "Elyse," he says, a smile in his voice. His glances at my body for a brief moment—my long, black dress with the low-cut bodice and silver sash paired with tall black boots—and then focuses on my face. "You look great."

If vampires could blush, my face would be crimson. But instead, it stays perfectly pale as I walk over to the human. He's not like the others that I've met, either here or in America. His confidence leaves me staggering, but of course, I love that. When I get close enough he wraps his warm hand around my always-cold one; I slip my arm around his waist. He smells slightly of alcohol to my sensitive nose and I turn to look at him. "You were drinking," I state, not angry.

He shakes his head, the smile I love creeping onto his face. "No, actually," he says. "Some drunk spilled his beer on me."

I laugh and pull closer to him, ignoring the soft pull of the bloodlust; I didn't feed yet today. But now I can't; Sutton is with me, and he knows nothing. "Let's go somewhere," I tell him, pulling him away from the dim streetlights, into the trees on the side of the road. I want to find a park; at least _someone_ would be there. I can't be alone with Sutton. It's too dangerous; I don't have the control Jager had with me, and even he slipped up.

And I cannot afford to make a mistake.

The cool England breeze rustles the dark trees above us, plays over our skin. I see Sutton shiver, but I feel nothing. "Aren't you cold?" he asks me, trying not to let his teeth chatter. All he's wearing is a worn leather jacket, so no wonder he is cold. I look down at myself and almost laugh; I am dressed as if it is late spring, when it is really nearly winter. So I feign a shiver, which the bloodlust helps to make real. "A little cold," I lie.

He wraps his leather-clad arms around me, and he smells so _good_…There's a song playing in my head, something I picked up from a human, somewhere.

"_I can feel the night beginning _

_separate me from the living _

_understanding me _

_after all I've seen…"_

"Come on," I whisper playfully, and drag him in the direction of the nearby park. I try not to be annoyed with his obvious human slowness; he _is_ much more aware than others of his kind. The skirt of my dress swishes around my legs, the hem reaching out to touch Sutton's jeans, and he complies, following me obediently. Probably not the wisest thing to do.

We come to the park through the woods and find a bench right beside the cover of trees. No one is there, not even the regular constable, and I groan inwardly. This is not good; no one will see us, no one can check me to make sure I don't do anything I regret.

Sutton sits down on the bench and pulls me with him, setting me on his lap. "Okay," he admits, "maybe I had one beer. But that's all, I promise."

I giggle, the sound strange to me. But I am so fond of this human that the response doesn't surprise me. It only fills me with dread because I know I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be putting this beautiful young man in danger.

But I ignore these thoughts and lean forward to kiss his neck. He catches me halfway with his own lips, and the kiss sends long-dead shivers down my spine. I fight the urge to say something in his mind; he knows _nothing_ about my kind, and I cannot ever let him know about us. About _me_. "You taste good." I whisper the words aloud instead, but far from being warned, Sutton only grins at me and kisses my bottom lip.

"You do, too, Elyse," he breathes. His mouth is sweet, giving me a hint of what he would _really_ taste like—_No!_ I scream to myself. _Don't even think about that…_

I tense slightly when the song returns to me, but I try my best to shove it out of my mind, try my best to ignore the warning the words are trying to speak.

"_Piecing every thought together _

_find the words to make me better _

_if I only knew how to pull myself apart…"_

I throw my entire self into his embrace, locking lips with him as if desperate to hold onto something fleeting. For that is what this is; I cannot keep it—cannot keep _him_—forever. I slip my cold hands underneath his jacket, wishing to be closer to him. Wishing I wasn't this dangerous, that I could love him without fear of hurting him, of changing him. But all of his body heat couldn't even begin to warm my icy skin. "You're beautiful," I tell him, and my voice is so quiet compared to the humming music in my head that I don't even know if he hears me.

But he does; I can tell in the way his body stiffens momentarily, and then in the way his mouth responds to mine. I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying the moment, ignoring the screaming in my dead heart for _blood_. Soon the bloodlust will begin to hurt, and I know I must get away from him before something bad happens…

"_All that I'm living for _

_all that I'm dying for _

_all that I can't ignore alone at night_…"

The music builds in my head, blocking out even our gasping as we pull away from each other. His breath steams in the air between us and I remember to breathe like him. For a few moments, at least, I can pretend I am human. He barely even looks like he's caught his breath, but Sutton's orange eyes flash in the darkness and he pulls me to him again.

I move my mouth from his lips, down his jaw and to his neck without thinking. "_All that I'm wanted for, although I wanted more,_" my mind wails. "_Lock the last open door—my ghosts are gaining on me_." No, no, don't do this. I'm begging myself as I'm kissing the beautiful skin on Sutton's neck, but now instinct has taken over and I can't stop.

I am not strong enough. I never was.

"_I believe that dreams are sacred _

_take my darkest fears and play them _

_like a lullaby _

_like a reason why_

_like a play of my obsessions_

_make me understand the lesson_

_so I'll find myself_

_so I won't be lost again…"_

I move my hands from inside his coat to cradle his head, the back of his neck, and with my eyes shut tight, kiss his lips one last time. My stomach is clenched, the sane part of my trying so hard to pull away. But I cannot…my fangs bite into his throat, rewarding me with the sweet taste of human blood. Without even realizing it, I've got a hold on his mind so he doesn't feel pain. But he tenses anyway because my body has relaxed way too much, far too quickly. I don't hear him when he kisses my ear and asks me if I'm tired, if I'm okay. The song in my head is drowning out even my own thoughts.

Sutton loses blood quickly, and I'm fighting the bloodlust, trying to shove myself away from him before it's too late. The smell of human blood floods my sensitive nose, makes me forget the much safer scent of leather, and I feel Sutton's body beginning to go limp under mine.

"…_I could have run forver_

_but how far would I have come_

_without mourning your love?_

_All that I'm living for_

_All that I'm dying for_

_All that I can't ignore alone at night…"_

His skin is cold under my lips by the time I can pull away without pain, without lust for more. He isn't dead yet, But his heart pumps frantically, all the while knowing it won't last. There isn't enough blood left in his veins. I kiss his blue lips, licking blood off of my own. _I love you, Sutton_, I tell him silently, and I know it's true. He moans in response when I release my grip on his mind, but that is all. I move away from him, reality beginning to hit.

I stare at him in horror as his body slides off the bench, slumps to the ground. "What have I done?" I whisper to myself, my eyes burning. I have never wanted to cry as badly as I do now. But vampires cannot cry, and I am frozen here, staring at the man I killed. At the man I loved.

This isn't what was supposed to happen. My golden hair blows across my face and this time I shiver in shock, in fear. My kind isn't supposed to feel fear, but I cannot believe what I have done. As I'm backing away from him, away from myself, I feel my compassion flee to the place my dead heart has gone. I bite down on my lip, licking away my own blood with a cherry-red tongue.

This isn't right. Not at all.

"…_Should it hurt to love you?  
should I feel like I do?_

_Should I lock the last open door?_

_My ghosts are gaining on me."_

I turn around, and without another glance back at my darling Sutton, I disappear.


	17. Encounters

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I was too lazy (and too busy with school) to type this up, and I had to cut it off in the middle of what I'd planned for this chapter; it just got too long. So yes, it's kind of a cliffhanger, and yes, if you review (or even if you don't, although you know I'd love to hear what you think) I'll update soon. Enjoy! (And thanks to Silver Phoenix 117 for this chapter's lyrics!)**

**Disclaimer: Everything but Emmie is AHAR's.**

"_And I don't want the world to see me_

'_Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

_When everything's made to be broken,_

_I just want you to know who I am."_

-The Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"

I'm in New York, a few minutes after leaving Moira, shaking my head to dispel the memory of Sutton. I _won't_ think of that now; I _can't_ think about it…of how I lost control, how I was stupid enough to fall in love with a _human_—

Instead, I stare across the near-empty street at a man lounging against the wall of a building. I smile, thinking that if he's there for the reason I think he is, he'll be an easy meal.

I cross the street a block away from him and slowly walk towards him, relieved to be dressed how I am (I'd planned on going to a nightclub, but this is even better; he's not even drunk like the boys at the club would be). When I come close to him, he looks up; I immediately know he's got a family at home, a wife, a daughter, that he comes here for fun—his family thinks he's got the night shift at a gas station.

"Hey," he calls to me. I smile slightly and continue walking towards him, disregarding the fact that his daughter will miss him. _Heartless_, someone whispers in my mind. I start, ready to shove up my walls, but quickly realize that was _my_ thought. I push it away before I can think about Moira's earlier implications. My kind must be heartless; it is how we survive.

I walk over to him. "Yes?" I say, feigning innocence. He holds out a piece of hard candy, as if that will make me come closer. I reach for it with no intention of eating it and he grabs both of my wrists with one hand. I let him drag me closer, but then he reaches for my chest with his other hand. _Oh, no_, I force into his mind, _I wouldn't do that_. He throws me a bewildered glance, but doesn't let go, so I hiss inhumanely. Squeeze his mind, and he immediately falls limp in my arms.

_Who's the predator now?_ I ask mockingly, silently laughing. The skin on his neck is leathery, but his blood is untainted, beyond sweet, making up for that. I drink until I'm not thirsty anymore, until he's got no blood left. I never bothered to learn how to feed without killing.

Then I drop him, letting his body slump to the ground, and I return to New Mayhem.

-vVv-

I stand against the wall of the nightclub, watching Jager. I have yet to stop hiding my aura, but as I study him, his calm, controlled air, I wonder if he will even notice me when I do reveal myself. He was around for centuries before he met me; perhaps he's just gone back to his own life without me. Like he did before.

He is speaking with Aubrey in the gloom; it's ironically like that first night all over again. Only this time I'm not going to go up and talk to them. Jager's emerald green eyes flash in the blood red light as he laughs, bringing a hollow feeling to fill up my chest.

I decide to wait in his room, as he'll have to return there in a few hours anyway. So I let go of the power masking me from him at the same time as I disappear, imagining his face when he looks to where I was and finds nothing. But I don't even know if he looks.

His room is dark, and I can't stop pacing. Perhaps I am impatient, but I feel like if I stand still, he will never come. So I walk back and forth across his floor, the wood creaking silently beneath my feet. Thoughts of Moira distract my attention from searching for his aura; how desperate she is, how it's so unusual for a vampire to _show_ that she's desperate. I think of her eyes in the moonlight, of the expression in their depths, and wonder how she could love Fala. (I despise Fala. But that is merely jealousy, although I'd never admit as much aloud.) Fala is beautiful, like all of my kind, but she is harsh, sadistic…_heartless_. I sigh, annoyed with myself. Moira puzzles me with her oddities. But I brush her from my thoughts. Moira has always been different.

And so have I.

I sigh again, the breath unnecessary—but breathing is still a habit when I'm upset, even after all these years. I sit down on Jager's bed and immediately stand up again—the memories are so tangible they nearly scald me. I have the urge to leave; why should I wait here, anyway? I've existed for two centuries without Jager. Doesn't that say that I don't need him?

But I remember the stabbing pain in my chest when I see him with Fala, and stay in his room, pacing back and forth. At least the darkness is comforting, especially because it allows me to ignore the familiarity of this place…

"Get out of my room." The voice breaks into my thoughts like a rock through the ice on a frozen pond. I spin around, startled and smug at the same time; I'd successfully stopped myself from looking for his aura. But now he's caught me off guard.

I shake my head, my indigo eyes glinting in the light from the crack between door and wall. _Don't you know who I am?_

He steps towards me. "As if I could forget," he whispers. I don't understand his anger, but I'm suddenly annoyed. He makes me feel like the weak human I was years ago, no matter how much I try to ignore the feeling.

"Jager—" I start, but a gentle ripple of power rushes over me and I know he hasn't forgiven me for disappearing years ago.

I swallow, nearly choking on an onslaught of unfamiliar _emotions_. I've been nearly empty for a half a century, and Jager is bringing too much back, making me feel far too much alive for my own good. I want to scream at him, want to tell him that _he's_ the one that close _me_ off, but I don't say anything.

I don't leave, either.

We stand there, staring at each other in the darkness. Neither of us moves in the second that feel so long; neither of us says a word—and this feels too much like the last night I was in his room, the last time we argued…when we ended up loving each other…

I sigh, quickly growing tired of his games, of my memories. I sit down on his bed; he groans and turns on his lamp. Although we don't need the light to see, it feels more comfortable to see him like this.

I blink and lean back on my hands. "How's Fala?" I ask politely. He stares at me, unmoving; but his eyes soften, and I can't help but hope that the expression is a reaction to me. But a thought creeps into my mind: does he really love Fala so much that he visibly softens at her name? The idea twists my gut and I wish I hadn't asked about her at all.

"I've been hiding myself from you," I confess quietly, breaking eye contact with him. Something about being with Jager makes me so much less brazen. I even feel ashamed, as if I've done something terribly wrong.

He says nothing; I cringe. But I won't beg him to speak, no matter how awkward this is.

This isn't at all the way I'd planned; where is the seductive Elyse, the one that makes hunting so easy? The one that learned from Emmie, that attracted Jager in the first place?

I look at him, feel the burning in my chest, think of Sutton. _I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you_. My silent words are barely audible, even to me; I don't know if I am speaking to Jager or Sutton.

Jager answers my thought anyway, speaking for the first time since he realized I wasn't leaving. "If you missed me, then why didn't you come back?" he demands. I bite my lip, reluctant to answer. I don't want him to know about England, about my losing control. It would only prove to him that I'm weak, that he doesn't need me. _Shouldn't_ need me.

"I did come back," I whisper. He takes a step forward as if the movement is involuntary, as if he can't help but want to know more. But I don't offer the information of my staying here with my aura hidden.

"…I know." His reserve falters, his body becoming visibly less tense. He acts as if he is giving in to an addiction when he finally walks over and sits on the bed beside me. I let out an unneeded breath, stare at him, soaking in every details about him that I can. He looks almost exactly the same as he did two hundred years ago; beautiful emerald eyes, graceful cheekbones, olive skin under the paleness that is typical of my kind. _Irresistible_, I think, and smile at that memory.

But there is something different about him, too: a darker shade to his aura, a harder line to his jaw. He doesn't look older--he'll _never_ look older—but perhaps more mellow, more subdued. My smile disappears at this observation and I have to hold myself back from reaching out to touch his hand.

When I look up into his face, he is half-smiling. "You look like you've never seen me before."

"It's been a while," I reply absently, dismissing his near teasing. I shiver at the sound of his voice without anger, delighted that he seems to be over his fury. "I saw you talking with Aubrey," I try. "How is he?" I don't smirk, don't grimace, thought Aubrey and I are hardly friends.

Jager looks at me incredulously. "I know you didn't come here just to ask about the well-being of two of your least favorite of our kind."

I nod, realizing that he wants to talk about us. About what I'm _doing_ here, in his room. On his bed.

"Jager…" I smile uncertainly, the expression strange on the face that hasn't had cause to smile in years. "Did you…miss me, at all?"


	18. Vindication

**A/N: Hope everyone liked the last chapter, and again--sorry for the cliffhanger. Please review this one!**

_"Guess I thought I'd have to change the world _

_to make you see me,_

_To be the one._

_I could have run forever,_

_But how far would I have come_

_Without mourning your love?"_

-"All That I'm Living For," Evanescence

Jager stares at me for a long time in silence. His penetrating gaze makes me more than uncomfortable; if I wasn't so good at controlling myself, I'd be fidgeting like a human.

Jager finally blinks, leans against the headboard of his bed. The down pillows seem to sink down into the mattress as if in an attempt to move out of his way, as if they want to disappear. "Elyse," he murmurs. It appears that he's still thinking, because that is all that he says. I wonder if he's remembering our short time together all those years ago, almost dare to brush over his mind—but don't. That would only make him angry.

When he speaks, I realize he knows why I asked him if he missed me. "I fell in love with Fala a long time ago—"

"Damnit, Jager!" I snap, interrupting him. He knows me too well. Knows that I can't bear to hear that he loves Fala and not me, that he _never_ loved me, that he didn't miss me at all—

"I don't care!" I growl, my sudden temper surprising even me. But he just looks at me somewhat sternly and continues to speak.

"It must be impossible, then, for you to understand the possibility of falling in love more than once."

I swallow down a sharp retort, determined that he _not_ find out about Sutton. I wish I could tell him how I _do_ know what it is like to fall in love twice, how _hard_ it is…how I know the feeling, the _guilt_, of losing control. But I stay silent.

Jager's voice softens considerably. "Elyse, why are you hiding your mind from me?" he asks. "You never did that before."

I clear my throat, lick my lips. "Perhaps there are memories that I don't want you to see."

He nods and drops the subject, although I can see that it pains him not to know what I am thinking. I pull my legs up to my chest, feeling my thighs sink into the soft mattress underneath me. This doesn't feel right; there's something in between the two of us, but I don't mind sitting here, staring at him, not speaking.

Jager obviously doesn't like it. "Did you come here for another reason than to look at me?" he demands.

I know if I could, I would blush crimson. "Sorry," I find myself apologizing. Then, because I can't stop myself, I add, "I just can't understand why you look so damn _sad_."

Do the corners of his mouth turn up slightly? It might just be the light, but I wish so badly that he would smile. "I thought you already figured that out," he says.

I look at him, caught up in his emerald gaze, and lock my fingers together over my shins. "You _did_ miss me," I accuse.

He is definitely not smiling now. I wonder why my accusation, why the truth, makes him so sad. I watch his slender fingers pick at a loose thread on his quilt and smile ruefully.

"Every time I kissed Fala," he begins, his voice vulnerable, "every time I _touched_ the damn woman…I thought about you. I love Fala, but…" He pauses, looks at me with a strangled expression on his face, and continues in a rush. "Sometimes I would pretend you were with me instead of her. I couldn't _stand_ not knowing where you were…"

I reach forward and touch the back of his hand softly; his tone makes me realize that I am loved. That he is speaking the truth.

He stops and looks at my hand on his, then raises his gaze to my eyes. "It's something," I whisper, and he smiles.

-vVv-

_I am standing in the doorway of the church, listening to the sermon, my eyes roaming over the crowd of people dressed in black, in mourning._

_I wasn't invited to his funeral, of course, but I'm here anyway, despite the pain it causes me to see his family. His friends. To realize what I've done, that I've taken such a wonderful person from this world._

_Never before have I felt guilty for killing someone because I had to feed. But I _loved_ this man, and the knowledge that he is in the casket at the front of the church because of _me_, of what I did, makes my chest hurt unbearably._

_I sigh and stare up at the ornate ceiling, try to distract myself from my guilt, my sadness. The church is beautiful; adorned with beautiful paintings on the ceiling beams and supporting columns, the orange lights cast shadows in niches and make gold paint shimmer. I bring my gaze to the giant sculpture of Jesus, suddenly feeling unwelcome. I am damned, Sutton is surely in heaven, and I will never see him again._

_I despise the way he looks in the casket. His skin is too pale, his clothes too stiff, and they are nothing like he would have ever worn in life. I don't like his smell, either; his scent is of chemicals mixed with musk, as if the mortician had tried to cover up the fact that Sutton is dead._

_I turn away, walk out of the church. I am wearing the dress I had on that night, and my hair is pulled back tightly in a bun. A part of me wishes I could cut my locks off, because they remind me so much of Sutton, of the way he would run his hands through them. But I don't; I need _something_ to remember him by, something that will remind of the way I want to remember him: wearing soft jeans and a leather jacket, smelling of beer and leather, absolutely beautiful._

_The sunlight is so strong it makes me blink, and I immediately hate it. How could the weather be so wonderful when the man I loved is dead, about to be buried and never seen again? "Damn you," I mutter at the sun, and enter the woods near the church, sit down in the soft earth. I will wait until he is buried to go see him, one last time._

-vVv-

I open my eyes with a gasp; find myself in my sitting room at home. I'm immediately angry with myself for being so weak, for losing myself in memories again, but there is nothing I can do about it.

The bloodlust growls inside of me, stirring my mind and directing my thoughts to the hunt. I will hunt close by tonight, in the town that neighbors New Mayhem. And then I will go to the nightclub.

Jager will be there, and the thought makes me smile.


	19. Irony

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews for the last two chapters! I know you're gonna hate me for this one, but too bad. Review anyway! Haha the happiness will come later. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only own Elyse and Sutton. Everything else is AHAR's, and the song is "Loose Ends" by Imogen Heap.**

**Chapter 19:**

"_We're kissing without kissing_

_Got it down to a fine art._

_Love's supposed to keep you young and frisky; _

_We grew up and wide apart._

_Not now, not ever, no, it's never a good time._

_How will the good times ever roll along?_

_Comparing photos then and now._

_Just wondering...wondering...where it all went wrong."_

Jager is looking at me, smiling vaguely while he leans back in his seat, a glass of some dark liquid on the table in front of him. I had just arrived at the nightclub, fresh from the hunt; I wipe my mouth, getting rid of any trace of human blood. "How are you?" I ask, and drop my eyes to the table in front of me, watching the red light play across the dark ebony surface.

"Fine, I suppose." His voice is velvet soft, sends shivers down my spine like it used to when I was human and had just met him. I glance up again and he's smiling at me, but Fala suddenly saunters over out of nowhere and smirks at the two of us.

"Hello, Jager," she purrs, sliding onto his lap. I'm waiting for him to push her off, but the feeling in my stomach makes me realize that isn't going to happen. He's trying not to grin at her, as if he really doesn't want her here, but his hands move around her waist to stroke her silk-clad thighs and my throat burns. I stare at my own black jeans and try not to think about crying; that will only make the ache in my chest worse.

Fala flirts outrageously with Jager, and I almost feel like puking from the anger boiling inside of me. Or is it jealousy? I push the thought aside, but when he kisses her on the lips, almost casually—right in front of me—I wish I were invisible. Wish I could leave, that I'd never come in the first place. I sink low in my chair, averting my gaze from the vampires in front of me. How could he do this while I'm sitting right across from him? After what he said to me when he found me in his room?

I stand up, purposely keeping my back to Jager and Fala, and make my way to the bar. I bare my teeth in a half-smile to the blood-bonded bartender, ask her for a drink—something strong.

Whatever she gives me had no effect on me, but it doesn't matter; I just want to get away from _him_, from the table, if only for a moment. Out of the corner of my eye I see that Fala is gone, that he is looking at me, and I sigh. He will want to talk now. And I am powerless against the suffocating ache in my chest; I am drawn to him.

I turn back to him, walk over slowly, but can't sit; I lean against the splintered mirror that serves as the nightclub's wall instead, smiling at the reminder of Risika's story. Any reminder of Aubrey's weakness amuses me.

Jager stands up and comes to me, opening his mouth to speak. The glass on the table that had been filled moments before has been knocked over, the dark liquid staining the tabletop and beading upon the shards of glass. Before he can utter a sound, I interrupt him, saying sweetly, "Are you sure you're not still busy? Because I can wait, if you want."

He closes his mouth, perhaps reading the hurt in my eyes; my mind is sealed firmly behind my walls, so he can't read what I'm thinking. "Damn." He blinks and gives me an embarrassed, half-smile. The starved monster growls inside of me as my heart flips over. "Can we just pretend that never happened?"

I ignore the ache and only raise an eyebrow, stare at him, feel the cold glass against my back.

"Damn," he repeats, more softly. When he speaks again, I can tell it pains him to apologize, to sacrifice his pride, and that would make me smile if I wasn't so occupied with the beast inside me that wants to grab Jager's face and kiss him. "I—I'm sorry, Elyse. I didn't mean for that to happen—" He steps closer, reaches his hand out as if to touch me, then draws back because of the expression on my face. He doesn't realize I'm fighting with myself; I want so badly to go to his arms, to forgive him…but I've already done that. And it didn't matter.

I push myself back against the glass as if I want to vanish through the millions of cracks behind my shoulders. "Jager…" I whisper.

He shakes his head, stopping me in mid-sentence. Reaches out again and strokes my jaw line, makes me shiver. I close my eyes and force myself to unclamp my jaw. Everyone makes mistakes; Jager is entitled to them. I remind myself of this as the tips of his fingers touch my skin.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "I love you."

I nod, swallow hard, and he puts my face between his two palms—

_I am alone, standing in front of the freshly finished grave, in front of the headstone that had been placed there moments before. There are too many flowers crowded around his grave, but I think the gesture is sweet; Sutton was well-loved in life, and is adored in death, too. I blink away imaginary tears and stare up at the vivid blue sky, composing myself. My black dress whips around my legs in the brisk wind; my golden hair frantically escapes its careful knot and dances in the wind, blocking my vision._

_The grass around his grave is too harsh, too green, too much like the eyes of someone I knew, once. I stand there, my body tense, and let my eyes trip over the name on the headstone: Sutton Cole. I kneel down suddenly, my knees pressing into the soft grass and crushing a few of the flowers left for Sutton. Roses, lilies, petals blending with emerald blades of grass. "I'm sorry," I whisper through a throat clogged with guilt. It is hard to speak. I stroke the marble stone, run my hand across the name engraved across its front. My mind is screaming to get away, to run from the memories. I want to leave this town as soon as possible. Standing up, I turn around to leave—_

I inhale sharply, my gaze focusing back onto Jager's face. I scramble to close my mind to him—he _cannot_ see my memories—but find with relief that I had never left myself vulnerable in the first place. Leaning forward impulsively, I meet his lips without realizing what I'm doing. His mouth responds to my kiss immediately, as if he had been expecting it, and he presses my face closer to his. He deepens the kiss, his tongue finding its way between my lips; he smells wonderful, _tastes_ wonderful…

But I shut my eyes and pull away from him; my head bumps gently against the glass behind me and I disentangle myself from Jager's arms. "I'm sorry," I breathe, moving out of the space between his body and the wall. I avoid his eyes as I speak, avoid his face entirely. "I can't." I turn around and walk out of the nightclub, and don't look back.

"_It's complicated_

_This time, I think it could be_

_Triangulated_

_It could be just what we need._

_So what you say, we give it up and walk away?_

_Nothing to salvage, anyway."_


	20. Explanation

**A/N: So here's the next chapter. Sorry it's been a while...I'm not sure if this is sappy/cliché, so bear with me if it is. And review!**

**Chapter 20:**

"_How the heart bends, _

_and summer she sends a sky that refuses to die_

_With weeds of the sea that wrap round our knees _

_and a sun too hot to go down _

_You come around, you come around, you come around, _

_you come around, you come around, you come around."_

_-"What the Snowman Learned About Love," Stars_

Moira is waiting for me outside, an icy expression on her face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demands. I swallow and lean back against the side of the building. Opening my mouth, I make myself breath, just because the cold air rushing into my long-dead lungs makes me forget all of the emotion that I'd felt seconds ago.

"I need time," I rasp. My eyes are half-closed but I'm watching her, waiting for her to lash out at me. She is angry.

I open my eyes just as she reaches forward to slap me across the face with enough force to break a human's cheekbone, and I realize she is just as furious—as _hurt_—as I am. I stop myself from putting a hand to my face and growl deep in my throat, my eyes narrow. "So you saw them?" I press. My throat burns just imagining the scene I just witnessed between Fala and Jager.

Moira stays rigid for a moment, then nods her head reluctantly.

"I'm trying," I whisper. "It's only been one day. Just give me time."

"Well." She hisses, her face up close to mine. "Try harder. You just walked away from him," she snaps, clearly angry. "That isn't trying!"

I frown and lash out with my power, a warning. _You have no idea what I'm going through_, I force into her mind. _Don't speak to me like that_. I watch her bottom lip tremble for a moment, satisfied.

But she smirks, staring murder with her eyes. _I have a pretty good idea what you're going through._ "I want Fala," she states softly. Her eyes glow and I nearly laugh at the words still fresh in my mind. She doesn't know. How could she? "You can get him away from her. I know you can." Moira's voice rises, and she straightens, throws her hands up in the air. "What do I need to do?" she asks. "Pay you? Kill _him?_"

"Damnit, Moira, shut up!" I yell. "You are too impatient. I can't heal mistakes I've made for two hundred years in one damn day." The thought of Jager dead, gone forever, and at the hands of someone like _Moira_, makes me drop the small effort of breathing. And I don't care. "Don't you _dare_ put a hand on him. I'll do what you want."

Moira smiles smugly, like this is what she was hoping I would say. "Good," she says, taking a step back. "Don't screw up. I'm watching."

Before I can decide whether to laugh at her or hurt her, she disappears, and I am left alone in the dark.

-vVv-

After leaving the nightclub, I tease a young cashier into bleeding for me simply out of spite—I am bored, not thirsty, and flirting with a stupid human amuses me. The gas station's store is deserted except for the young man and myself, and the lights are dim, making the dirty floor look even less well kept. I wander the aisles after I leave him leaning over the counter, disoriented from loss of blood but not seriously crippled. Stare at the layers of junk food on the shelves, wondering how humans can eat such food. The packages are covered in a thin film of dust, and I grimace, turn to the beverage section instead. I'm using this time in the store, with the hum of the refrigerators drowning out badly tuned music playing from speakers somewhere above me, to think. But so far my moments alone have been in vain. Even if there had been a chance to get Jager back, I ruined it by walking away from him at the nightclub earlier. _Why can't I do this right?_ I demand of myself. Frustrated, I lose my patience for this dingy store and storm out the glass doors, disappear once I've turned a corner and no one can see me melting away.

My house is smothered in darkness despite the rising sun; the blackout curtains on all of the windows keep out the light. I swallow down my impatience with the large home and drag myself up the stairs. It is time to rest. Perhaps if I lose myself to the vampire's dreamless sleep, I will forget about today, for a while at least. Then I will figure out what to do about Jager. About Moira.

I crawl under my bedcovers like I used to do when I was human, pull the sheets over my head. My eyes are closed but rest won't come; for some reason, visions of Sutton keep flashing through my mind. I work hard to push them out, and it takes time; by the time I slip into unconsciousness, the sun has fully risen and even my curtains are unable to keep out the slivers of light that push through my windows and dance across the floor.

I do not dream, but I wake some hours later with terror in my dead heart. I squeeze my eyes shut and ignore the feeling, but all that rewards me with is memories. The night I killed Sutton plays over and over in my mind, as if I am watching a movie and keep rewinding to play that scene again. I bite my bottom lip, lick away the blood as the cut heals, and try to concentrate on something else. That doesn't work, either; for instead of reliving that night in England, I watch my most recent moments with Jager play across my eyelids. Finally I lose it, sitting up in bed suddenly and letting out a strangled scream. I wish I could cry. I put my hands to my eyes and rub them, whimpering like a child that has just woken from a nightmare. Only my nightmares are true, and I don't act like this when I remember them. What is wrong with me?

I glance over at the clock, placing my hands gently at my sides. It is a few minutes past noon. I swallow and close my eyes again for a short moment, pulling myself together. I know, suddenly, what I need to do.

I am in front of Jager's door seconds after the thought, twisting my fingers together in a manner so unlike me. But this is important; Jager needs to know. I need to forgive him so he can forgive me. I knock loudly on the door, hoping that I'm waking him, that he isn't doing something else, with someone else.

He opens the door, and his eyes are alert, but his hair and clothes are slightly rumpled, giving away the fact that he had been resting. "Elyse?" he queries, and I nod, try to smile. My lips tremble. He lets out a pointless sigh and waves me in. "Come on," he says.

I force myself to move past the threshold and walk into his room, moving to the center so I won't be tempted by sitting on the bed. Jager has numerous homes, but he prefers to stay in the room at the nightclub, for whatever reason. And that suits me. I force another smile and look him in the eyes, resisting the urge to pace. "I need to talk to you," I begin. If I am having second thoughts now, it is too late. I am already here. I pretend this isn't awkward, that the last time we met I didn't actually run away from him when he tried to kiss me. "I want you to know why I've been talking to you again, why I've let you see my aura again after two hundred years." Moira will kill me for this, but I don't care. Jager sits on his bed, looking at me silently, letting me continue. "Moira came to me yesterday. She asked me to get you back, because she wants Fala to—to love her again." I ignore the stumbling of my words and press on, the words coming out in a rush before I lose what I am going to say. "I said I would try, but that it's been two hundred years and you didn't love me anymore. That you'd never loved me. Moira didn't like that," I say, letting out a small laugh at the memory. "So I agreed, but…when you kissed me, when you reminded me of how things used to be…I panicked, Jager. I haven't felt anything in so long and you made it all come back in a few seconds. That's why I left. Not because I don't love you, not because I was angry that you kissed Fala in front of me—which I was—but because I was afraid of what I felt." I gracefully sidestep the issue of Sutton and stop speaking, waiting for him to say something. He doesn't need to know about Sutton just yet.

He sighs again and motions that I come over. I expected him to be angry, to tell me to leave, but as I sit beside him and sink into the soft mattress, he is neither. "Why are you telling me this?" he finally asks, not moving his eyes from mine.

I stand up and go to the window, pulling away his curtains to reveal the sunlight. I don't know if I imagine it, but it seems as if the light makes his room clearer, sharper, in my vision. I look back at him. _I still love you, you know._ Did I say that, or just think it? I'm not sure, but regardless, Jager hears me anyway.

"This is the first time in years you've been truthful with me, isn't it?" he says, and I smile, slightly embarrassed. He knows me too well. But I can't understand why he is reacting like this. I push the worries away and let him speak, going to the bed and sitting again, bathed in sunlight. "Moira can have Fala," he whispers. "I'll tell her to go back to her lover."

Will it be that easy? I doubt it, but I don't know what power he has over Fala, and so try not to make assumptions. I pick up his and and kiss his fingers. "Thank you," I murmur, and I know he knows I'm thanking him for more than what he just said. I almost regret not telling him about Sutton, because if Jager really wants me back, then that secret will only produce problems later. But there are some things that should be kept to myself, and so I stay quiet, let him kiss my forehead, and then I stand up. "Hunt with me tonight?" I ask, and he nods, smiles. "Good. I'll find you before I go." Once these words are spoken, I turn around. Walk out. Return to my home.

And for the rest of my sleep, I am not plagued by memories.


	21. Naivety

**Chapter 21 **

**A/N: Wow…it's been a while…forgive me! A few of you said you felt a fight coming on…and you were right! Kind of. But not the kind you were thinking of. Hope you like this one, and please review if you read it!**

"_I find myself a bit of a mess._

_Life just isn't fair, is it?_

_I miss the years when we were young,_

_Innocent and so naïve._

_We can dream but I can't stay._

_It's a small world._

_But I'll still sail much too far away."_

This Providence, "An Ocean Between

Jager and I go to a human bar to hunt, and we are a couple for strategy's sake. We slide up to the bar and share a beer (which does nothing whatsoever to either of us) while I scan the room. "Hey," I whisper in his ear. There is a young woman looking at us—or rather, at _Jager_. She looks too young to be in a bar, let alone drinking shots. I send the image of her into his mind along with the words _She'll come. I'm going to the restroom. _He bares his teeth and nods.

I disentangle myself from him and walk away, purposely leaving him free to entice the girl to approach him.

I give him a few moments to seduce her while I stand in a bathroom stall, laughing silently at the words carved into the cheap metal walls. It reminds me of my high school bathrooms; of the way girls would scream _"Slut!"_ in writing on the peeling blue doors. Then I send him a thought. _Ready?_

His voice is amused. _Meet me outside._

I wash my hands deftly for show, make my way through the crowd to the door that will let me out of the rank, noisy bar. When I slip outside into the chilly, dark air, I spot Jager and the girl immediately. She is pressed up close to him, and he is whispering in her ear while she smiles and tries to reach up to kiss him (without success). Despite knowing that this is a hunt, an act, I feel a small twinge of jealously, one I stifle immediately. I stride over, meeting Jager's eyes over her blonde head, and crush her mind under my power. She falls limp, her eyes wide and trusting. And although she is clearly drunk, when he and I reach our heads forward and meet opposite sides of her neck at the same time, her blood is sugary, perfect. We drink until she has nothing left, then release her. Jager catches her body before she falls to the ground, drags her into an alley and leaves her ungraciously in a dumpster. I almost feel bad for her. _Almost._ And so I close her eyes before we leave.

He pulls me close when we exit the alley and kisses me with lips still reeking of blood. "I love you," he murmurs. I smile and take his hand, tug it slightly.

_Let's go._

He looks at me, his eyes laughing under arched brows. "Where?"

I shake my head at him. "Los Noches. Where else?" He nods and we leave, melting into the darkness outside of the human bar.

Jager reaches for me protectively when we appear in front of the nightclub's doorway, and I instinctively know that he spoke to Fala. I slip my hand into his when he brushes my arm, and he glances down to grace me with a rare smile. "Something wrong?" I can still taste the sweet hint of blood in my mouth from our hunt.

He shakes his head and holds the door open for me. We head to the bar, where the blood-bonded bartender smiles at us and immediately hands Jager an unidentifiable bottle. He takes a sip while my eyes roam the room, my fingers absently rubbing the dark, glassy counter. He hands me the bottle after a moment and I smile distractedly, holding it in my hands while I think. Neither Moira nor Fala are here, and I can't help but wonder if Moira got what she wanted, if Fala has gone back to her. The bottleneck beneath my fingers is dark and smooth, slightly chilled by whatever liquid is inside. Shaking Moira from my thoughts, I bring the bottle to my lips and swallow down Jager's favorite drink. It is bitter but sweet at the same time, and I clear my throat, hand it back to him. "It's good," I say, repressing the urge to cough.

He opens his mouth to reply but doesn't get the chance to say anything because at that moment, Fala and Moira saunter through the door. Fala has her arm hooked around her lover's waist, and Moira rests her head on her shoulder. I smile and lock eyes with Jager; do I imagine the longing expression or is it really there? He leans forward and kisses my open mouth, perhaps to hide whatever I wasn't supposed to have seen. It is difficult, but I manage to push him away with another smile. _I want to watch them for a minute_, I tell him silently, and he nods, turns back to the counter and his drink.

Moira and Fala make their way to a corner, where they share a seat, speaking in either low or silent voices to each other. I watch them kiss, watch as Moira murmurs something and strokes Fala's cheek, runs her hands through the other vampire's hair. Biting my lip, I turn back to Jager and press my fingers into his palms. "Okay," I whisper, "now you can kiss me." He grins and obeys, pressing his lips to mine. I revel in his beautiful scent, in the feeling of his lips on mine. _You are—_

Whatever else Jager says to me is drowned out by the sudden noise erupting from Fala and Moira's corner. I break away from Jager in time to turn and see a cringing Moira dodge the chair Fala kicks her way. "How dare you?" Fala snarls, walking closer to her lover. Moira's dark hair hangs in front of her face and she is doubled over as if in pain. "Fala…" she whispers, digging her fingers into her own arms. "Fala, I didn't mean anything—"

"Bullshit!" Fala yells. "You meant _everything_ by it! I come back to you, treat you as you begged me to since the first time you left me, and this is what I get?" She grimaces and Moira suddenly cries out in pain, falling to her knees. I realize a second later that Fala had attacked Moira's power. I watch in horror as Moira actually _cries_, her hair clinging to her dark, beautiful skin. "I'm sorry…" She sounds like she is begging, and I almost expect her to crawl forward and plead to Fala on her knees. But she doesn't.

I glance back to where Jager is sitting but find no one there. Where did he go? _Jager?!_ I feel his presence in my mind, feel him shake his head, tell me not to speak to him. _I'm in my room. Come to me later. Not now._ The severity of his voice convinces me, and I sigh, turn back to Moira and Fala.

Fala is looking at Moira strangely, almost as if she regrets acting out. Had Moira said something that I missed in my preoccupation with Jager? Or were they conversing silently? I decide it doesn't matter, but stand up, walk to the door, instead. As I slip out, I turn back to glance at the fighting couple and find Fala in Moira's arms, her face hidden in the girl's hair.

I shake my head and turn my back to them, stepping out into the rain pouring from the night sky.


	22. Release

**Chapter 22:**

"_I was your anger_

_And you were my fear_

_Now that it's over_

_Of course it's so clear_

_But you were no angel_

_And I was no sin_

_Somehow I can't let you go_

_I can't let you go again."_

-Goo Goo Dolls, "Can't Let It Go"

I walk the streets of New Mayhem for what seems like hours, but I know can only be minutes. The rain feels good on my skin; warm, wet, comforting. It clings to my hair, my eyelids, enveloping me in a soft blanket of its unique scent and the muffled sounds that reach my ears. There are few humans about at this hour; those that choose to live here and don't wish to become a meal tonight have retreated into the relative safety of their homes. But I can sense those that are blood-bonded to my kind, and pass a few of them as I walk along the sidewalk. Guilt is raging through me, filling my dead veins with its ugly presence. Why? I convinced Jager to speak to Fala. He must have hurt her, I decide glumly. She returned to Moira almost immediately, as if she needed comfort. And the way Jager reacted when the two of them began to fight…was his leaving a hint that he would rather have stayed with Fala? That he couldn't stand to see her upset? A small twinge of guilt pinches my mouth closed, but I banish it, angry with myself for more than one reason. I blink and push my sopping gold hair from my face, stare up with squinted eyes at the dull shadow of the moon behind rain clouds. Has enough time passed that I can return to Jager? I swallow, suddenly shivering, imagining the security of his arms around me that he does indeed love me—

I am in front of his door in a mere second, knocking on the dark wood softly with my pale knuckles. He opens the door, stares at me for a moment, pulls me inside. The door closes by itself with a soft snap of the lock clicking, and I turn into his arms, molding my body to his. At first he is stiff, but then he relaxes, pulling me closer so that I can fill my nose with his wonderful scent.

We do not speak of Moira and Fala during those early morning hours. I spend the time curled in his bed, his body dwarfing my petite frame, our eyes closed as we dream as only a vampire can. The rest is much needed, on my part, at least; I have thought myself into exhaustion the past few days, something I didn't think our kind could do. And when I drift off into a vampire's sleep, Sutton appears beneath my eyelids. As he was in life.

_He is smiling, his soft lips curved up only slightly at the ends, his brows arched over the beautiful eyes I loved, his hands playing with an empty bottle of soda. _I love you_, he seems to say without words, and I want to cry, though from sadness or joy I don't know_. It's not your fault_. This time his mouth opens and forms these words that burn into my mind like the greatest lie I have ever told. Of course it was my fault. Wasn't it? I was the one who lost control; I let him die because of the monster I couldn't keep hidden inside of me—_

_My dream Sutton shakes his head at my thoughts, trying to convince me to stop spiraling into this guilt, the guilt I have over everything. And suddenly he is fading away, becoming one with the wind that plays with his beautiful hair. I am shaking my head, reaching out to him with a grip that will never quite catch him, that will always be just shy of pulling him close to me and kissing him like I did so long ago. "Sutton—"_

"Sutton, don't go!" The words erupt from my mouth as I wake, but it is too late to take them back. When I find Jager staring at me, I realize my body is shaking, that I must have woken him. I stand up and wrap a blanket around a body that is always cold but somehow never is, and force air into lungs that don't need it, try to calm myself down. "Sorry, Jager," I apologize. My voice sounds thick. Unreal. "Dreams."

He tilts his head, watching me. "You dream?"

I nod, slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. "You don't?"

He shakes his head. I can feel the curiosity emanating off of him; he wants to know what my dreams are about. But I shiver, can't help wonder what he would say if I told him about Jager. That I am weak? That he can't believe I loved someone else? Some things are better kept secret, although when I look again at his calculating gaze, I want so much to tell him. "Jager…" I sigh and sit beside him again, close my eyes as he leans forward to touch his lips to my forehead. "You know I don't know everything about your life, about the loves you've had and the…years you've lived. Do you expect me to tell you everything about myself, then?" My voice is weak, but I cannot help it. The trust I gained from him is so fragile; I don't want to lose it so soon by telling him a lie.

He touches my face. "What are you getting at?" he asks.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you," I whisper, "but I haven't lied, either. Can you respect that there are things that happened in these two hundred years past that I'd rather not share?" I can see, once I say these words, how painful it is for him to hide his curiosity. He wants to know. But would he really, once I told him?

"I understand." I don't know if I am imagining the strain in his voice, but regardless, it is there to me.

I am shame-faced. "I'm sorry," I say, not looking at him. "Maybe someday, but not now." He nods and lays back down. "It isn't quite evening yet. We have time." He motions for me to lay beside him again. I smile and bend down, kiss his lips.

"I'll be back in a moment? There is something I need to check."

I leave him and find myself in the bar, staring at the wall of splintered mirror shards. I expect my reflection to be broken because of this, but that doesn't matter. I just want to see myself—

But when I open my eyes to stare in front of me, all I see are the cracks in the mirror. I have no reflection. Not anymore. I think back, forcing away the shock, wondering when the last time I checked a mirror was. Sutton's time, I remember. And even then, it was fading.

But now it is gone.

I put a hand on the glass where my face should have been, remembering the times that, as a human, I would stare in the mirror, wondering why I was blessed with this beauty. I was nothing special, nothing God would take pride in. Just a flirt, a whore, someone who was ashamed of her beauty but flaunted it at the same time. And now I am damned, forever out of reach of God's hands. And my reflection now, is truly empty. At least, when I was a human, there was something to look at. Now there is nothing.

I bite my lip and turn away. Empty reflection. My stomach fills with something not quite like regret, but I will myself back to Jager and climb on his bed, into his arms. "I loved someone when I left you," I blurt out, unable to stop myself. I couldn't not tell him. The secret was only leaving me emptier than I already am. "His name was Sutton. He lived in England; that's where I went when I ran from you. He was beautiful, and I loved him—a human, Jager, just like I was when you met me. But I didn't have the heart to change him. He was too full of life, too wonderful—"

Jager clears his throat. "Elyse," he starts to say, but I shake my head.

"Just let me tell you. Then you can speak." He nods, and I continue. "I was always careful around him. Always made sure I had fed before seeing him, so I wouldn't hurt him. But one night, I…I forgot, or something—we were kissing, and he tasted so _good_, and before I knew it—" My voice broke; I paused, swallowed, tried again. "He was—dead. In my arms. I _killed_ him, Jager. I lost control, and the fact that I loved him didn't even help me, and I'm so sorry for loving when I still loved you. I've been having dreams, or flashbacks, or…something, all of the times I spent with him, and it's stopping me from being with _you—"_

I stop there. Swallow again. This is the most I've said to him in a long time. I stare hard at the blankets, avoiding his face, wondering what it looks like, what his reaction will be. It is silent for too long. I finally look up, see him staring at me, not angry, but not as if he is about to forgive me, either. "Jager," I say, nearly pleading. "Remember that time you told me it is possible to love more than one person? Possible to fall in love more than once? You were right, Jager, don't doubt that I love you—please don't be angry." I force myself to stop speaking. I am saying too much, and none of it will help me; he still hasn't said a word.

"We all lose control," he finally whispers to me. His eyes are so dark when I meet his gaze, so deep that I could fall into them. "It happens." His voice is like velvet, wrapping around me, speaking the words Sutton was trying to make me understand but didn't succeed in doing so. "It is a curse, our bloodlust. So hard to resist, and that is what makes us inhuman. It happens, Elyse—don't cry. It wasn't your fault."

His last sentence releases the tears I'd been trying to hold back. They were the exact words Sutton said in my last dream. The hot liquid drips down my cheeks, making my eyes burn. I am not used to crying. I know his words are right, too, but I don't want to believe them. I want Sutton to come back to life; I want to have the courage to shed my guilt. But then I wonder if I would be here right now if Sutton hadn't died. If perhaps he was supposed to go. Was he there to show me love? So I'd remember it, remember Jager, and find him once again?

Jager kisses the salty water on my cheeks, then finds my mouth and embraces me without a word. _I still love you_, he whispers in my mind.

_Why?_ I ask, unable to stop myself. _Why did you leave when Fala and Moira fought? Why did Fala go to Moira so quickly? Why did you leaving her hurt her so much?_

It is too many questions. He pulls away from me and almost smiles. "I have seen them fight too many times," he tells me, answering the second question. "I didn't need to see it again." I nod, understanding only slightly. But I don't say a word; I want him to continue, to tell me the answers to the other questions that have been swimming around in my head for so long. "Fala didn't go to Moira because I hurt her. She didn't find her for comfort, because she couldn't bear to hear that I love you." He reads my thoughts and answers them all in one breath. I smile, not yet confident enough to take his hand. "Elyse, Fala loves Moira. They have left each other and found each other again countless times in the years since Moira was changed. Fala stayed with me for another two centuries, but she wanted to go back to Moira. You may not realize that—but she is my fledgling; I_ know_ her. She only needed a push in the direction she wanted. I gave that to her, and now she is where she wanted to be since you left. With _Moira_. And I am with you."

I don't let myself cry again. He may love me, but weaknesses are never good things to show. Instead I take his hand and move closer to him. "Are you sure?" I ask. Jager nods.

When he kisses me, something loosens itself inside of me. Something that his words have comforted, the part of me that couldn't let go of Sutton. _She only needed a push in the direction she wanted._ His words echo in my head, and I realize how true they are. Not only of Fala, but also of _me_. I close my eyes and Sutton is there, smiling, squeezing my hand. Finally close enough that I can touch him. _You figured it out,_ he says, and I smile. Then he disappears, and the pain is gone; I am only left with love for Jager, with love for Sutton. For what he brought me, and what I now know to be the truth.

Later, when I glance in the mirror again, I know I will still not be able to see myself. But also I know my reflection, although nonexistent, will not be empty anymore.

**A/N: Well, that's it! The end. I know, I know…unexpected. But I was considering finishing it up for a while, now, and it seemed to be the right time. I hope this chapter answered everyone's questions—why did Jager leave? what happens when he finds out about Sutton? Why can't you make the chapter longer? Why the heck was this story called Empty Reflection? (Okay, so maybe you didn't ask that last one, but **_**I**_** did.) Anyway, please review! I'll be posting a new story soon, called "Feral." It is in the Keisha'ra series, during the latest one, **_**Wolfcry.**_** So there's something to look forward to. Again, review! And thanks to everyone that has stuck with this story! You've been great!**

**Dusk :-D**


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